


So near, so Spa

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Massages, Robin completely sure where to look!, Robin may not have mentioned that!, Strike and Robin at a health spa, Strike in the pool, Strike not sure where to look.....first!, hot mud baths, indulge me....please!, investigating what is basically an excuse of a case!, much heart eyes, much pining, really the case is pretty irrelevant, some Strike-like language choices, the food is vegan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: OK, so this is a completely indulgent bit of nonsense to help keep me sane while the world is going mad!Basically Strike and Robin are investigating a ridiculously convoluted case (#I honestly don't care about the case!) which is simply an excuse for them to be in a health spa - complete with massages, facials and mud treatments.I mean, Strike covered in oil......Robin wrapped in fluffy towels.....what's not to love.Of course this would NEVER happen.....and let's completely gloss over the fact that the client clearly can't cover the cost of their skills...or even their expenses of this ruddy spa visit!!!!This is one of my fics.....it is gonna have multiple chapters, and I haven't written it all yet - but I've got a scribbled plan (you know what it looks like Lula!) and I need something to keep me sane.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 140
Kudos: 83





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LulaIsAKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/gifts).



Strike closed the drivers door of the BMW and made his way around to the back of the vehicle, popping the boot hatch and inhaling what he feared may be his last chance for real nicotine for a couple of days before discarding the stub with a wistful wrinkle of his lips and a huff of breath.  
He still wasn’t completely sure he’d made the right decision in agreeing to investigate the alleged goings on in what, on first sight, appeared to be a rather swanky country house spa, but when the ex employee had turned up at their offices and unburdened herself, giving a lot of detail but very little in the way of evidence he’d known that they would take the case.  
Women being forced into sexual related acts or be sacked was something he was absolutely not comfortable with.  
The concept of sending Robin in alone was also something he had immediately dismissed.  
So his own discomfort at the thought of displaying his partial limb would just have to take second place.

“I’m still fine to do this alone if you want to change…..”  
He interrupted his honey-haired partner who had alighted the car also and was piercing him with those resolute grey-blue eyes.

“I thought I’d made it pretty clear! No way are you doing this alone….if it was up to me you wouldn’t be here at all; we just need to be able to get into all the areas and have access to all of the therapists,” he stated, matching her gaze with what she knew to be his ‘don’t argue; I know I’m not the boss, but at this moment I am the boss’ expression.  
“Anyway, part of this place’s cover is that it offers therapeutic services for people who are rehabilitating and dealing with amputations…soooo.”  
His deep, gravelly voice drifted as he swung the boot open and effortlessly pulled out both of their pieces of luggage, leaving Robin to close the hatch.

“Ellie said that one of the male therapists has a missing leg.”  
He interrupted her with a snort, “Makes it sound like it’s playing hide and seek!”  
She tutted. 

She was always comfortable talking about his leg, or lack of it, and often thought that his perception of peoples’ reaction was far worse than the reality….but then at moments like this he was almost blasé about it!  
“What I mean is, people should be used to it….not stare and stuff,” she added.

He recognised her partially covered sigh – it was very odd that Robin always seemed to be far more comfortable with his missing limb than anyone else…maybe with the exception of Ilsa. Even Nick made a point of enquiring about it, and checking he was keeping an eye on his blood pressure levels.  
He ruefully considered whether it was a female thing – was it like the equivalent of having a period?  
You just have them and get on with them, and have to be comfortable asking complete strangers if you can borrow a tampon if needed?  
Maybe that was it….maybe women were just inherently less bothered about bodily stuff!

“We’ll see,” he growled as he allowed Robin first through the automatic doors to the rather stark, but elegant reception.  
“Good afternoon,” came the cheery welcome from the rather artificially teak-skinned blonde on the reception desk.  
Robin gave their details and saw the rather obvious and complimentary up and down gaze she flashed Strike as he obliviously scanned the interior geography of the building.

She had to admit, that casual, spa visit Strike looked rather good.  
Dark jeans, a brown t shirt emblazoned with ‘The Stranglers’ and a burgundy coloured cord shirt left open over it.  
It was his usual combination of ‘slightly dressed in the dark, but somehow making it work’ chic.  
She liked it.  
It was far easier being around a man who was so casual about the way he looked rather than Matt with his almost ridiculous preoccupation with making sure his trouser creases were perfect, and his hair was gelled precisely into one shape.

As if reading her mind Strike rolled his fingers and palm through his unruly hair, creating a new and equally charming style of dark curls as he turned his attention to Robin and the hotel receptionist.

“So….here we are. Two rooms.”  
Was that a rather purposeful emphasis on the number Robin wondered?

“You’re on the second floor, but we do have a lift to help with luggage. And here are your therapy schedules for your stay. There’s a layout of the spa facilities in your room, but the main communal areas are located on this floor. The dress code throughout the spa is casual – so make use of the robes etc and just ask if there is anything at all that you need.”  
This time the look she flashed at Strike as she spoke was unmistakable and Robin bit her lip at the realisation that she was very close to blurting out ‘Eyes off Missy!’ but as usual her work colleague merely gave one of his alluringly calm grins and a slight raise of his eyebrows before inviting Robin to accompany him in the direction of the lifts.

Once there and safely inside, with the second floor button pressed Robin finally let out a huff of breath and sought out his eyes.  
“Bloody hell! She wasn’t exactly subtle was she?”

Strike’s brow wrinkled in confusion, “What do’ya mean? That’s how everyone greets you in a hotel….they’re just falsely polite.”  
Robin regarded him to work out whether he was serious, it appeared so! 

So, that was the reaction Cormoran got whenever he checked into a hotel was it?  
Perfectly manicured and overly made up women almost fawning over him……why the fuck did it matter to her anyway?  
They were here on business!

Cormoran’s voice dragged her out of her internal bitch fest.  
“Please tell me we don’t have to turn that shade of David Dickenson teak while we’re here,” and she saw the smirk in the corners of his mouth.

“No way," she quipped, " I have no desire to look like an old leather purse like her!”  
Strike turned his head and stared, open mouthed as the doors sprang open.

“Robin Ellacott! I think that might be the nastiest, bitchiest thing I’ve ever heard you say!” grinning wildly and sniggering as Robin’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Clearly you’ve never listened in on me and Ilsa on curry night!” she smirked back.  
They followed the signs directing them to rooms which were adjacent to each other.  
Strike paused as they juggled door keycard things and luggage.

“Seriously though…..please don’t get one of those fake tan things while we’re here,” he stated, meeting her searching and quizzical gaze momentarily before fiddling with his door.  
Was that a slight blush to his neck? 

She cleared her throat before replying, “Don’t worry….we haven’t got time. Have you seen your schedule?” and with a waggling of her eyebrows she disappeared through her own door, leaving Strike to eventually get his card to work.

What did she mean about the schedule?

He surveyed the brochure and printed documents they’d both been presented with by Fake Tan.  
He narrowed his eyes before dropping open his mouth and uttering a long, drawn out, ‘Fuuuuuucccckkk!’  
Shit!

Robin had clearly taken up the challenge of interacting with as many therapists as possible by signing them up to all manner of treatments, including the first one which, with a glance at his watch, he realised was due to start in 40 minutes and involved a facial.  
He regarded his reflection in the mirror; heavy, dark bags under his eyes and a forehead that resembled a cracked pane of glass.  
Although, at least this treatment wouldn’t involve any removal of clothing.  
He could wear the loose sweat pants he’d brought and a t shirt.

He was almost casting the schedule aside when he glanced further down the list and saw that later that evening he was supposed to have a couple’s massage!  
He swiped up his phone and heard the ringtone faintly through the wall.

C – A COUPLE’S MASSAGE!!!!

R – To be fair, I didn’t ask for that….I just asked for both of us to have massages….they clearly put us together! I had 2 days to get all this sorted out Cormoran….and I’ve tried to be as thorough as I can – no point doing all this if we don’t get to speak to everyone a few times! 

C – [sniff] Oh…..right…..OK….sorry, I do appreciate how you’ve got all this planned in such a short amount of time…..sorry.

R – ‘t’s OK. And I’ve got way more things than you to do.

C – OK…..so a facial? Are they gonna want me to shave?

R- God NOOOooo! [shit, was that a bit forceful and desperate?] Erm…..they’ll…..work round it all I’m sure. Right, I’m getting unpacked, shall I knock and we’ll go down together, or shall I meet you there? The room is one floor down.

C – Gimme a knock. See you in a bit.


	2. I bet those don't make fart noises!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off for a facial...on the flimsiest premise of asking questions of the therapists, and meeting someone who makes Cormoran feel more comfortable over his leg situation.

Strike glanced at his reflection in the mirror of the large bath and shower room he’d wandered to as he spoke.  
God no! Shave?   
What did that mean?   
He considered Robin’s reaction as he rasped a hand across his stubbled chin.  
Did she like his beard?  
He had a beard because shaving was a pain in the arse!  
But maybe Robin liked it.....  
Taking advantage of his proximity to the toilet he expelled several cups of tea from his system and rinsed his hands before efficiently unpacking his luggage and regarding the vaping device Robin had produced before they had left.  
He was pleased to see she had not chosen one of the types that resembled a kiddie’s bubble pipe, instead the device looked rather like a portable memory stick and was in a burnished steel finish.

He glanced at the instructions…..blimey, instructions on how to smoke?   
With a fag you just lit it and sucked!  
He inserted the cartridge Robin had also included and self consciously gave it a drag.

It felt slightly odd not to have the softness of a filter resting against his lips, but on a second attempt, and a quick review of bullet points 4,5 and 6 he was able to inhale a satisfying sensation that, although not like smoking was not too bad as an alternative for a couple of days.  
He considered how addictive this thing could potentially be as he puffed again.   
With a cigarette there was a time limit – you got to the end of it and stubbed it out. Whereas this device had apparently enough product in the cartridge to last for 30 cigarettes.  
He had never before considered how many drags he took when smoking a standard cigarette.   
He reckoned he’d probably take about 7 or 8, so after a further few inhales on the device he placed it down and considered changing.

The most annoying job was to remove the laced up suede boot from his prosthetic foot and replace it with the trainers he could probably wear for the rest of his stay. Even if he was making use of what appeared to be a rather glorious indoor pool he would need to trainer grip for his other foot.

When Robin knocked on his door he opened it and gave her a grin, knowing without having to say a word that she had purposefully not adorned her fluffy, towelling robe at this point as she knew he wouldn’t have either!

She was wearing yoga pants and a long t shirt and had opted for bare feet. She was in the process of swirling her hair up and securing it with a springy clip that looked like a cross between a comb and salad tongs.   
He’d often pondered on how women learned how to use such things, and how they were able to create styled hair whilst not looking and working behind their own head.  
He realised that he’d been watching her as she completed her coiffure and gave a slight cough as they waited at the lift.

“Before you say anything, I know I’m still wearing make up, but they’ll take it off as part of the facial thing – might as well take advantage of their ridiculously expensive products!” she grinned as they got into the lift and arrived at the first floor.

Strike had pretty much memorised the layout of the building from the fire door plan on his room – it was a skill he’d had to develop in the army; knowing your way in and out of somewhere was pretty life saving information! – he was therefore confidently steering them towards the therapy rooms. 

A dulcet soundtrack of panpipe music became audible and before he could say anything Robin raised her index finger in front of him.  
“Do NOT laugh! I don’t care if the therapist’s name is Cumquat, or if they’ve got blue eyebrows…do not laugh!”  
He stifled his snigger and instead affected an expression of mock disappointment. “Erm, having lived in squats for quite a number of years my threshold for weirdly named and visually confusing people is pretty high!”

Opening the doors he immediately inhaled and smiled.  
The small desk was being attended by a young man with short, spikey red hair, a smattering of tattoos the kind of toned upper arms that pointed at multiple daily reps with weights.  
“I’m Dom…are you Robin and….Cameron?”  
Strike gave his standard head tilt as he corrected his name, “It’s Cormoran actually…but yes.”  
“Excellent, come on through, you’re both in here, is that gonna be OK?” his black vest and shorts displayed his blade style prosthesis to his left leg, which appeared to have been removed slightly higher than Strike’s right.

He had ushered them into a large, nicely lit room containing a couple of sumptuously padded, leather chairs. They reminded Robin slightly of dentist chairs, but she whisked the thought from her head as Dom spoke again.

“If you just want to pick a chair, get comfy. Magda and Connie will be through in a second. Can I get you anything to drink?

Strike considered asking whether a pint was on the cards, but Dom had offered coconut or cucumber water, mint tea and Robin had asked for some iced water, which he nodded at, flashing his fingers to show that 2 of those would suffice.  
Dom flashed them a nod as he departed.

“He reminds me of Shanker,” Robin hissed as they were left alone.  
Strike snorted, “Shanker with manners….and one leg! I’m willing to bet these don’t emit dubious fart noises,” he went across to one of the large chairs and wriggled into it, smirking at Robin who regarded him acting almost like a schoolboy.  
“He must be the guy Ellie spoke about….we know he’s a good guy. He’s the one who persuaded her to come to us. Do you think we should mention it to him….why we’re here?”  
Strike had ceased squirming and settled himself, sighing deeply and considering their options as Robin sat in the chair on the other side of the room.  
“I might see if I can catch him later, maybe ask something leg related and drop it in that we know her, gauge his reaction,” he cut off his statement as two females, dressed in pristine, white therapist uniforms entered the room.


	3. You've taken five years off me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a facial!  
> Honestly not much else happens.....it's just lots of fun with them vaguely asking questions and working out the rest of the schedule!  
> We all know Strike's dependency on meat based food stuffs, so I thought I would throw in an added element of annoyance for him......but one which he ultimately comes to enjoy!

Introductions were made and Connie focussed her attention on Strike, leaving Robin to the very capable and soothing hands of Magda.  
Both made low, easy conversation – one thing about their job was that they frequently had to find out answers to questions in unobtrusive manners, so working a conversation around to discover titbits was a sort of mini challenge each enjoyed.

Robin enjoyed the soothing pads on her eyes; the foamy fragrance of the facial wash Magda used which was mildly gritty in a pleasing way. She sighed and became quiet as some blissful scented oil was massaged across her face, and she relaxed back into the chair, almost forgetting their purpose as the therapist swept her hands up and down Robin’s neck and complimented her on her clear and natural complexion.

Strike initially talked to Connie as a means of covering his slight discomfort at having a woman touching his face in what would usually be a rather intimate manner, but which she was completing in a highly professional manner.   
He rather enjoyed the sensation of having some sort of grainy mixture rubbed into his skin. It felt manly, and it smelt good too, not flowery like he’d feared, but slightly like peppermint mixed with limes.

The tension in his body started to dissipate as the mixture was wiped free and some sort of oil was massaged into his cheeks and forehead. Connie was focussing quite a lot on the section of skin above his eyebrows, and amazingly it felt like she was erasing the perpetual ‘almost headache’ he seemed to carry with him at all times.   
He knew his mouth had relaxed; he could almost visualise a thick, graphite line being gradually removed, like on a page in an exercise book.  
Eventually a couple of very cold, wet pads were placed over his eyes and Connie softly stated that she’d return in about ten minutes.

Sensing movement on Robin’s side of the room, and hearing a door click he peeked from beneath one of the eye patches and saw that Robin was doing the same.  
They grinned in a rather drunk manner.  
“God that was gorgeous!” Robin stated, failing, or maybe not even attempting to cover her blissful stretch in the chair. “And I see the trademark stubble made it too!”

“It did indeed….although apparently Dom does a mean hot towel shave and beard trim, so maybe I’ll take advantage before we leave!”  
Robin nodded.

“What else did Connie tell you then? Did she offer any additional services?” Robin pursed her lips.  
Strike shook his head, “No, just general chat you know, she’s worked here for about 8 months, got recommended by one of the other therapists called Daria..”  
Robin interjected, “Magda mentioned her…and I don’t know…I just got a feeling that she didn’t like her. Nothing I can put my finger on, just female intuition I guess!”

“Well, with that in mind maybe we should try and meet this Daria sooner rather than later,” he reached across and gulped down the glass of iced water which Dom had brought in during their treatment.

Robin did similar with her water, “Already covered, I’m due for a treatment with her next.”  
Strike wrinkled his mouth, picturing the schedule he’d scanned, “Is she doing the massage thing later?”

“No……she’s giving me a wax beforehand!” Robin took in the fractional raise of the dark, single eyebrow she could see.  
With one of his familiar off-centred smirks he replaced the cold eye pad and rested back in his chair, “I’ll leave that one up to you then!”

“Hey, how do you know I didn’t put you down for a back, sack and crack?”  
She watched as his hands shot up and flipped both eye patches away, glaring at her, “ You’d better bloody not!”

“Nah,” she settled back in her chair and replaced her own floral scented eye pads, “They’d need to bring in extra staff!”  
Cormoran huffed in amusement before he resumed his recumbent form.

Over on the other side of the room Robin’s mind was whirling.   
Why had she said that?   
Was he going to think she said it because she assumed he was….big…. down there?   
Should she comment that she’d said it because he was hairy – at least his chest was on the odd times she’d caught a flash of it….and so were his arms.   
He WAS hairy…..pressumably he’d be hairy….there.   
Oh God, stop thinking about Cormoran’s underpant region!

She realised all positive effects of the relaxing facial had vanished!

Relaxing into his chair Strike was trying desperately not to think about Robin in her next treatment.  
She’d been pretty vague….just a leg wax?  
Probably not, probably her bikini line too; she'd already said she was making the most of the services on offer.  
Oh God….stop thinking about Robin’s bikini area!

Hang on!  
What the fuck did she mean about needing extra staff?!  
Cheeky madam!  
The pleasingly warm feelings heading towards his groin at the thought of Robin’s neatly waxed nether regions vanished as he considered exactly what position you’d have to be in in order to have your scrotum and arse crack waxed…..or indeed why you would want to in the first place?!  
At some point he just might have to revisit those mental images of him squatting on a therapy table….especially as he considered their couples massage later in the evening….and he hadn’t even looked at what Robin had signed him up to the following day in way of treatments and therapies.

After what felt like significantly longer than ten minutes, he heard the click of the door and soft footsteps.  
Connie resumed her professional and soothing hands as she wiped some product across his face using fresh cotton wool and then massaged something over the skin of his face and lower neck.  
Robin was receiving a similar treatment across the room and had engaged Magda in more soft conversation, fishing a little further into the names of therapists and whether she enjoyed her job etc.

A short while later Connie considered that Strike was ‘Done’ and he dragged his hand through his slightly damp hair before regarding his somewhat shiny and fresh looking face in the mirror. Bloody hell! She’d taken about 5 years off him!   
“Wow! Thanks very much.”

“No problem. There’s a complimentary set of follow on products here, I’d recommend using the face oil across your browline at least weekly, it will help with those fine lines and the stress of staring at a screen – I assume that’s part of your job?”

Strike glanced up and gave her a sincere smile, “I do spend a lot of time on a computer actually. Can’t believe you can work that out from just a face!”

He wasn’t sure whether to linger in the chair, but Magda looked like she was just finishing up on Robin – he smiled at her completely relaxed and trusting expression as the final remnants of some thick, slightly peach coloured cream was swiped across her cheeks and throat. The therapists fingers slid with no interference from facial hair, obviously, and he seriously considered how pleasant it might feel to shave and have a complete skin based facial treatment himself.  
Although the ferocity of Robin's reaction to the idea made him breathe deeply....maybe that might have to be another time!

They made their way back to the lift with their goody bags, and were denied the opportunity of a debrief as another spa client was already in the lift, dressed in full robe and slippers.  
“Shall we use my room for a quick catch up before I go and find treatment room 4?” Robin suggested as they approached their rooms.  
Nodding in agreement they both went into her room – which was the exact mirror image of his own – and he sprawled into one of the two easy chairs.

“So….what have you got? I’ve got names and dates of quite a few of the main staff, I reckon we could probably start writing out a staffing structure, work out who has the chance to hire and fire staff,” he stated, dumping down the bag of goodies as Robin collected a few items from the large wardrobe and disappeared into the bathroom.  
She spoke loudly enough so that he could listen in, and judging by the muffled odd word she was changing her clothes.

“Magda has given me lots of names, and a couple of them are related to each other – there’s a brother and sister called Max and Claudia and they have a cousin called Salina who have all worked here for years. Magda reckons they don’t do many hours each, but some of the regular clients have built up relationships and request them for treatments……I mean…I’m not jumping to any conclusions, but….that sounds dodgy doesn’t it!”  
Robin reappeared in the main room now sporting a pair of loose, linen shorts and a clinging yoga style top, revealing a couple of inches of her softly toned tummy.   
He focussed himself on what she’d said rather than dwell on the delicious sight of her belly button playing peek-a-boo with the waistband.

“Honestly, yeah….it does sound a bit. But, if they’re offering that willingly it’s a bit different to what Ellie told us is happening…..staff being forced to go along with that or be sacked. How long are you gonna be?”

Robin puffed out her cheeks, “Well, I timed this evening out so that we could eat before our massages, so I reckon about an hour for me with our pal Daria, and then we’re eating at about 6 – I know it’s early, but I could only get the massages booked in at 8…and they are being done by two different therapists who don’t do other treatments."

He nodded, “6 is fine for eating. So I’ve got a couple of hours to kill….I might check out the pool and our pal Dom….mention Ellie and see what happens.”

Robin nodded along with his plan, “Sounds good. We can debrief over food.”

“And hopefully those massages will take my mind off the need for booze and fags…although the vaping thing isn’t bad actually. Thank you,” he flashed her a grin as he heaved himself out of the chair and located his own room key in order to change and head down to the pool; his prosthesis now seeming like less of an issue having met Dom who was very much unashamed and unapologetic about his, and the scarring to his upper thigh.

Robin swiped up her room card and phone and followed him into the hallway. “You’re welcome, over the vape thing, although to be fair it was mainly for my own sanity….the last thing I need is to have to spend 2 days with you with no access to nicotine, and alcohol…..and meat,” she winced as she delivered the final comment.

Strike was almost through his door when he froze, “Whoa there Ellacott….whadya mean, no meat?”

Robin wrinkled her nose and placed one of her bare feet on top of the other, making her hips drop down rather sexily, “The food’s all vegan….but I have it on very good authority that it’s not all salads. You won’t starve…and I may have a back up plan for the booze!”

He affected her with a withering roll of his eyes, “Yeah, yeah……I’m not eating bloody vegetarian bacon for breakfast though! I mean what even IS a vegan breakfast?”

Robin knew that the food here was excellent, and that despite his grouchiness he’d enjoy it, but she found winding him up too much fun to miss an opportunity, “Slice of dry toast and black tea?” she suggested, giggling as she caught his look of horror and tripped off down the stairs.

Within his own room he shook his head and mumbled under his breath about Robin ‘being the bloody death of me, signing me up for vegan food, and no fags, and bloody beauty treatments’ as he rummaged about for his swimming shorts.   
Wonder what she meant about a back up plan for the booze?   
He considered as he regarded the bottle of single malt and bottle of white wine he’d packed as essentials.   
If she’d had similar thoughts they’d be pissed!  
Might be fun!


	4. Apparently vegan food is edible after all!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike eating in a vegan restaurant.....and having had a swim!

At 6pm Strike knocked on Robin’s door and they made their way to the dining room to share new information from what had been highly relaxing afternoons in the pool, or 'significantly less painful than doing it at home' waxing sessions respectively.

They learned that the dining room staff were completely different to the therapists.   
Ellie had already told them that she didn’t think the sexual favour issue spread to them, but Strike and Robin wanted to be certain.

Strike shared that Dom had been highly welcoming once he’d told him who they were and their role. He’d accompanied Strike to the pool area and made a point of introducing him to a new member of the team, called Hettie, who looked about 18, but was in actual fact in her mid 20s.   
She was one of the resident injury therapists as well as a qualified sports masseuse.   
Once in the pool she had surprised Strike by removing her shorts and t shirt to reveal a swim suit and had given him some initially painful, but after a while of listening and following her careful instructions, combined with having his body tugged and coaxed into different positions, had become rather pleasing movements in the water.

Dom had given him a couple of suggestions regarding his swimming stroke too, and after trying a couple of lengths he noticed that he veered slightly less towards the right and was using his stomach muscles more effectively.  
He of course hadn’t bothered Robin with this, but had filled her in on several of the things Dom had shared with them relating to Salina and Claudia in particular and Salina’s father, who apparently was one of the major investors in the spa and was called Graham Watson. He’d already checked him out and he was indeed a major investor in the spa, one of the directors and was basically in charge of staffing.   
He was also in debt.   
A lot of debt based on the initial searches Strike had carried out.

The menu choice for the restaurant was slightly surprising given that Robin had told him it was all vegan food – he was intrigued by the appearance of vegan tuna curry and bolognaise lasagne, and much to his surprise there was a rather good looking display of cakes under clear glass domes….so at least he could fill up on pudding!  
They ordered food and continued to talk.   
Robin told him that Daria had been less chatty than either Connie or Magda.   
She was pretty much what you’d visualise if someone said rich, spoilt Russian. She had clearly enhanced lips and boobs – when Strike had raised his eyebrow Robin had added ‘they were pretty much circular and like felt like rubber.’   
This had caused a further guppy-like mouth display from him, before she had clarified, ‘She did my eyebrows….. they ended up pretty much in my mouth!’

Anyway, Robin told him that she’d met Connie, and she’d said that Daria had got her the job….and she’d invented a lie and said she had a sister who was interested in getting into a therapy job as she was giving up working on one of the larger cruise liners and was fed up with rubbish living conditions and crap pay.  
This had been something that had actually flagged Daria’s interest apparently, and she’d asked lots of information about Robin’s invented sister – height, weight, hair colour….basically trying to find out whether she was attractive, or so it seemed to Robin.

All of this discussion took place whilst they consumed starters of vegan fried chicken style dippers for Strike and a celeriac and pine nut soup for Robin.  
After plates had been removed Strike explained that Dom had been highly scathing about Daria; claiming that she was ‘a law unto herself’ when it came to rotas and that she seemed to make a beeline for new female staff; almost too desperate to make new friends….but she was apparently an only child who’d been kicked out of home and forced to make it on her own…so the idea of craving friendship sort of made sense.

“But you think that’s all bollocks don’t you?” Robin stated, receiving a smug, and proud nod from him across the table.

“I do! I think that is a tale meant to do exactly what it’s done to Dom – make him justify how she behaves.”

Main courses of Bolognaise lasagne arrived for Strike and a spiced, sweet potato and chick pea ragout for Robin, both of which were delicious and had Cormoran even stating that his was "possibly the best lasagne I’ve ever had….full stop!"

They continued to discuss theories, names, dates, who knew and worked with whom as they ate, and predictably reached the end of their main meals feeling stuffed.  
Robin glanced at her watch.   
They had some time before their massages, but she seriously didn’t think she could eat another thing.   
Strike however looked across at her plaintively.  
“I wanted cake,” he grumbled, “But I’m full.”

He made his face into his best Grumpy Cat pout, rendering Robin slightly concerned that she might slide off the seat in a molten pool of oestrogen.

Their waitress arrived and whilst Strike was busy explaining how great everything had been Robin’s mind was two steps ahead.  
“We’ve got a treatment to get to, but we were wondering, could we possibly get our dessert to go….we just fancied some of that cake,” she indicated the display behind them.

“No problem, I can plate some up and cover them for you. Which one did you want?” asked the waitress, who was called Sandra which had already resulted in a good natured micky taking session between Robin and Strike based on their own initial meeting.

“The chocolate one,” Strike announced enthusiastically, reminiscent of his nephew Jack when she’d taken him to a coffee house and given him free choice of a muffin!  
“And I’d like some of lemon one please,” Robin added.

After the waitress had departed Strike considered that at about this moment what he’d like to do is have a cigarette, but he’d have to make do with a few puffs on his vaping thing instead.  
“Right, shall we go up and get ready for our massage then?” he announced, scraping back his chair and waiting while Robin gathered her phone and keycard.  
“I’m taking it that this one is a definite bathrobe jobbie,” he added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting the massage chapter next.....why not, weekend and all that!


	5. The massages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely long chapter to match their lovely long massages.  
> There is a bit more reference to the 'plot' (I know....let's try and keep up the premise of this actually having a purpose to it!)....but mainly it is Robin gawping at Strike in a towel and Strike trying not to stare at Robin's barely covered boobs!

Their massage was scheduled for one of the rooms which lead from the pool area, so Strike was in a position to be able to direct them through the various doors and corridors to locate it.   
Robin noticed that he’d opted for the towelling robe, as had she, and had ensured that it was firmly fastened around his waist, and up to his chin – she giggled as she realised it looked like a fluffy, white version of the massive overcoat he was so fond of.   
The metal pin on his lower leg was clearly visible beneath the bottom of the robe, but he seemed relatively comfortable walking alongside her in his trainers.

The Fake Tan receptionist had been replaced by a younger male, although Robin noted with amusement that they appeared to use the same product to render their skin the colour of polished teak!

The room was peppered by various candles when they went inside.   
Very faint, instrumental music was playing somewhere, although Strike couldn’t see any speakers as he made his usual scan of a new location.  
There were two therapy beds, draped with crisp sheets and towels in the centre, although Strike was pleased to see that they were a distance apart that would presumably enable both therapists to work, but also ensured that he wouldn’t inadvertently find himself reaching across to caress Robin’s cheek if he got carried away!  
He really mustn't allow himself to do that!

“These two therapists only do massages,” Robin whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” he grinned, but using the same hushed tones as he spoke.

Robin giggled slightly, “I don’t know…..it feels a bit like when you go through customs…..you know, be on your best behaviour and all that!”

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, incredibly attractive woman; probably around mid twenties, but her glossy, dark skin made an age difficult to pinpoint.  
“Hi, I’m Carmen….I assume you’re Cormoran and, is it Robin?” she looked slightly perplexed as she regarded the pair.

“Yes,” Robin interjected, “We booked massages.”

The door opened again and a shorter, but none-the-less stunning woman entered. She softly announced herself as Cherry with what Robin thought was a slight American twang to her accent.  
The therapist named Carmen flicked through a black folder, “We were expecting both of you to be male actually…..you know, the name Robin….sorry….suppose I shouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion,” she hastily scribbled something on the folder and flipped it closed.

Robin felt her cheeks blush a little.   
Strike however broke the tension, “And here I was thinking this would be the surprise factor,” and he flashed his prosthetic leg a little more fully through the opening in his robe.  
Cherry gave a bell-like giggle and shook her head, “Oh no, don’t worry, Dom had already mentioned that. I assume you’ll want to remove it for the actual massage though…..will you be OK accessing the bed? This one can be raised and lowered if you prefer,” and she indicated the nearest of the therapy beds.

“I’ll be fine…..just if you could put it somewhere and hand it to me after?” he moved towards the therapy bed and delved under his robe to start the process of pulling his partial limb free from it’s accessory.  
“Would you like to pop through here and get ready and we’ll leave your partner here?” Carmen suggested, flashing a dazzling smile at Robin who considered correcting the second assumption the dark skinned therapist had made, but instead simply followed, allowing Strike privacy……and anyway, technically she was his partner!

Once in a smaller, side room Cherry joined Robin and Carmen, “So, if you want to get down to a towel, you can leave your pants on if you prefer and then I’ll get you settled on the bed once Cormoran is comfy, OK?”

The pair left via a further door, leaving Robin to assume that in the therapy room Strike had been told to do similar.   
She bit her lower lip at the thought of how much grumbling and internal turmoil he’d be battling with as he got himself almost naked and positioned on one of the therapy beds.  
They truly did do whatever it took to get a case to completion....even though they hadn't actually accepted any payment for this one as yet.   
Both had agreed that given the nature of Ellie's complaint they should try to help; and fortunately the business was ticking along quite nicely.

In the actual therapy room Strike had nodded without making eye contact as Cherry had told him to get comfortable and asked whether he needed assistance with the towel to cover himself.   
He’d hastily said no – he’d had enough physio on these types of beds back when his leg had been healing, and he knew he could hitch himself around pretty well, including draping a towel across his backside – although he was keeping his boxer shorts on!

Robin became aware of a soft tone sounding in the room, which was followed by the reappearance of Cherry and Carmen.  
“OK, so Cormoran seems ready, shall we go through?”

Robin had removed everything but her knickers and had wrapped the towel tightly around herself, making sure her hair was scraped up off her neck.  
Shit, she now had to somehow get herself face down onto the bed infront of Strike….without flashing him her boobs.   
Surely he’d look away….he’d be as aware of the discomfort too?   
Wouldn’t he?

Robin risked a brief, as calm as she could muster glance at Strike as she entered behind the 2 therapists.   
She could see his one full leg and part of his right leg as well as a quite alarming amount of his muscled back and shoulders as he rested on crossed over forearms, his focus seemingly on one of the freckles nestling beneath the dark hair there.

Carmen positioned herself between the beds and Cherry followed suit, “If you’d like us to just hold this,” and Robin sighed gratefully as the dark skinned therapist positioned a folded out towel like a curtain, meaning she could shuffle herself face down onto the bed with Cherry arranging a fresh towel across her lower back and buttocks.  
She had little choice but to adopt the same position as Strike on the bed, although at some point she knew she would probably end up with her face planted in the oval opening.  
Carmen’s rather sultry voice cut through what could only be described as a ‘charged’ atmosphere in the room, neither Robin nor Strike feeling able to relax in the relatively close proximity to their near naked colleague.

“So we’re going to start with shoulders and neck, and then we’ll move onto arms and you can let us know if you want you want us to do any work on your lower half. Does that sound OK?”

Both Robin and Strike sniffed, cleared their throats and answered with a ‘Yep’, almost in unison, and causing both to inadvertently flick their gaze to the other in shared amusement of their synchronicity.

Robin caught the initial smirk from Strike which turned into a hastily averted, lip biting grimace.

Strike had glanced across at her instinctively without realising that he’d be subjected to such a gloriously alluring sight of her cast in an amber, candlelit glow, which made the brief glimpse of soft, rounded, naked flesh pressed against the lucky as fuck therapy bed play havoc with his equilibrium.  
He’d tweaked his neck away sharply, but not before cementing the image in his memory.  
As he mentally punched himself he was aware of Cherry speaking softly to Robin and risking a further glimpse saw that she appeared to be selecting from a selection of small bottles.

Carmen’s hips appeared before him, “Would you like me to use a scented oil or a plain almond one? These are all possible choices,” she showed him a similar array of glass bottles with stoppers. “The rule of thumb is generally if the smell appeals to you it will probably help you in some way.”  
Strike cautiously lifted himself onto his elbows and sniffed at the first bottle. It reminded him of cough sweets and he wrinkled his nose.   
The second was a deeply zesty tangerine type smell, which he quite liked. The third was clearly lavender, and it reminded him of furniture polish. The final bottle was some sort of spice, reminiscent of a hot rice pudding; it was lovely.

Robin had made her selection and Cherry had retreated to a bench at the side of the room to mix the essential oils with carrier oil. 

“I like that and that,” Strike indicated to the second and fourth bottles in the tray.  
“Perfect, that’s Bitter Orange and Cinnamon and vanilla, I’ll mix a couple of drops of each,” and she moved across to her colleague.

Strike didn’t dare risk looking at Robin but angled his mouth so that it was clear his hushed comment was directed at her, “Great…I’m gonna smell like a flapjack!”

Robin snorted and lifted her head, meeting his gaze reflected in the large mirror on the wall infront of them. It was far enough away to not feel ridiculously intimate, but she gasped a little at the sight of his dark chest hair visible as he was still propped up on his elbows.

The combination of the soft lighting and the draped sheets rendered his ruffled hair and soft expression reminiscent of just waking up, and Robin’s imagination was wrestling with the concept of being in that exact position beside Strike……in private…..

Fortunately Cherry became visible moving back to Robin and all thoughts of waking up next to her work colleague were briefly removed as the warmed oil was liberally and rather gloriously slathered across her skin by the capable palms of Cherry.

Strike had received massages from women before….sometimes without the presence of the tastefully draped towel….but Carmen’s hands seemed nothing but professional as they worked on relieving tension in his knotted shoulders.  
He found himself groaning slightly as she tackled lower down on his back; it was an area which often became tight when he was sitting in his office chair – he had a tendency to favour his left side meaning his back was often askew.  
“Bloody hell….I didn’t realise I was so sore!” he stated with a mixture of pleasantly painful delight.

Robin was dimly aware that they were supposed to be using this as an opportunity to quiz their therapists and the sounds emanating from Strike were beginning to have a rather shameful effect on her groin, so she used his comment as a starting point to engage Cherry in polite, probing conversation.

Strike was aware that Robin was doing her job brilliantly and he dragged himself back from the bliss of having his muscles kneaded and wrung out to start a discussion with his therapist. 

They followed the requests to reposition and free up arms, tilt necks etc as needed.   
Each time it offered one of them the opportunity to stare and their partner whilst their head was turned away.

Strike had thought the vision of Robin initially had been heaven, but add the combination of subtle aromas and the shimmering oils on her skin and he was engulfed in a whole new wave of desirability.  
Robin had thought the flash of Strike’s broad back and swarthy chest and arms had been glorious, but the added glisten of oil seemed to pick out each bulging muscle, making her ache to reach across and trail her finger along his side to find out if he was ticklish.  
Both had memorised the layout of freckles on the arm and shoulder of their colleague facing them.

Strike had propped his face up a fraction, and in the mirror could see that Cherry had moved down to work into Robin’s calves and feet, and he also noted that she made small snorty noises when the arch of her foot was rubbed.  
He stifled a growl at the ridiculously intimate knowledge he was discovering about Robin.   
Robin who was his work colleague.   
Robin who was thoroughly professional.   
Robin who had ticklish feet.   
Robin who usually smelled deliciously of cherry blossom but was now exuding wafts of some darkly mysterious scent which was now seriously impacting his equilibrium, especially as she was making soft moaning sounds inbetween discussing the qualifications Cherry had gathered and her specific therapy skills.

Robin was trying to maintain her focus on the task in hand, namely finding out as much information as possible about these two therapists and to subtly find out what they knew of Ellie and her dismissal from the spa. However the rather guttural and throaty groans emitting from Strike were making it hard to focus on anything except trying to ensure SHE didn’t start copying him!  
The sight of Carmen’s dark hands swarming across his skin was mesmeric and she’d found herself staring unashamedly for quite some time as the therapist focussed on his shoulders.   
Initially she’d enjoyed simply watching his skin ripple and flex, but as she’d continued to stare she realised she was now imagining that Carmen’s hands were in fact her own….and then, when he’d started almost purring with contentment she’d wanted to reach across and slap Carmen’s hands away from him!  
Wow!   
That was unexpected….was she jealous of a bloody masseuse?  
Maybe she was a bit….maybe he was making the sounds on purpose….they were there afterall to investigate possible ‘additional services’ and where better than in a relatively private massage room when the client was already pretty much naked!

The conversations had slowed and ceased after about 40 minutes; both Strike and Robin had become slightly fuzzy headed as the effect of released endorphins flooded their bodies.  
They were briefly aware that their therapist had stopped touching them and moments later found themselves engulfed in warm towels; the sensation reminiscent of a gloriously snug duvet in winter.  
“We’re going to turn the lights down a little and give you some time to relax further before you get dressed. If you just want to ring for us when you’re ready Cormoran,” stated Carmen…she really did have a very sensual voice thought Robin as she squirmed slightly into the warmth of her towel covering.  
Once they had left she sensed rather than saw Strike turn himself to face her.

“Have you fallen asleep?” he asked, in what could only be described as an obscene post-coital murmur.

Robin shook her head and made small noises to signify ‘no’, “But I’m dead comfy now….I suppose you want to discuss what they told us?”

“I suppose we should,” Strike inhaled long and deeply; it was the kind of breath he usually reserved for his first cigarette of the day and he momentarily considered that if he could have a massage like the one he’d just received each day maybe he could happily kick his nicotine habit!  
Robin tilted her head on her crossed forearms to face the decidedly ruffled and languid expression of her partner and smiled as she began.

Their soft discussion brought to light that both therapists were aware of Ellie, and both had offered sympathy with her dismissal, becoming a little guarded over discussing things further.  
Strike told Robin that in his experience Carmen did not seem like she was offering him anything other than a massage…..Robin toyed with the idea of probing the basis of his statement, but decided against delving into his sex life, or the lengths he may have gone to in the past to nail a mark – although under the circumstances that was a rather unfortunate turn of phrase!

“Well, we’ve only got one shot with these two…..it’s not like we can see if they open up again tomorrow….they’re not in!” Robin huffed.

“I know….I wonder if we are perhaps a bit more explicit with them…”

Robin’s eyes shot wide open, “What exactly do you mean?”

Strike sniggered at her misinterpretation of his intention, “I was thinking of maybe simply telling them who we are and what we’re doing…..they’re not in work tomorrow so they could avoid any further questions etc….I haven’t got any other idea, and after that massage I’m afraid my brain feels slightly numbed!”

Robin felt her cheeks warm with her blush.   
Of course Cormoran hadn’t been suggesting asking the therapists for sex!.....or maybe he had actually, and she’d shocked him out of his aroma-drunk stupor!

“Alright then, I’ll ask Cherry, you ask Carmen….but don’t press the bell thingy yet….gimme five more minutes,” she mumbled, nestling her bedsoft features against the sheet and flashing him a beguiling look of…..something……before closing her eyelids.  
Strike found himself totally absorbed in watching Robin’s closed-eyed face, so much so that it was at least twenty minutes later that he adjusted himself and indicated to her that he was summoning their therapists.


	6. You smell good, by the way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter tackles the rather yacky element of the case - the idea of offering sexual favours is discussed, although rest assured, of course Robin and Strike will catch the baddie....just not in this particular chapter.  
> Sorry for the delay in posting - I have been between computers and only just got this one set up.

Robin became aware that she would have to get herself off the bed and covered, whilst now being more aware of the various mirrors in the room.  
Thankfully Strike pre-empted her dilemma by groaning loudly, exclaiming that “I might never leave here” before tugging his large, still warm towel up to cover his head and create a blissfully scented cocoon with just his lower left calf and foot sticking out on display.

Robin chuckled as Cherry and Carmen re-entered the room. “I think his body language says it all! That was fabulous, thank you so much; I can definitely see where that training paid off.”

Whilst complimenting the calm and accepting women she quickly got down, gave herself a bit of a wriggle and wrapped the towel back around her body.  
From under the towel the deep baritone of Strike sounded, “Carmen, could I just ask you about something…..professionally?”  
Robin was struck with their earlier conversation and briefly concerned that he really was going to proposition the therapist for ‘extras’…..but surely not with her in the adjoining room?!  
His question had the effect he’d desired and left Carmen with him in the therapy suite whilst Cherry accompanied Robin next door.

For a man of his size and relative limitations, he quickly and efficiently swung around on the sheeted bed, pulling the towels across his lap and round his back.  
“Carmen, I’m not gonna beat around the bush but…..is it usual for men to ask for some additional time.......after a massage?”

He fixed the dark, sultry eyes of the young woman with his penetrating gaze and saw a flicker of confusion behind her calmness.

“It’s something that is offered……but we don’t use this room….is it something you’d like?” and she met his gaze with a look that Strike understood immediately to be one of calm resignation. It made his stomach lurch and a slightly sick feeling form in his throat.

“No,” he said softly, “And I don’t think Ellie was interested in it either…….was she?”  
Carmen’s eyes shot up to meet his.

“My partner and I are private detectives. We’re helping Ellie…..we need to know if what she told us is true….and whether you and anyone else is willing to back her up. If it’s right, what she’s told us, then whoever is in charge needs to know….and they should serve a prison sentence if they are involved!”

Their eyes shot around as the adjoining door opened and Cherry together with a purposeful looking Robin, covered in her bathrobe came back in.  
“Carmen…..we can tell them…..we need to sort this out….and it isn’t just us,” Cherry implored her colleague.

“But we’ll get sacked…..everyone who says anything does….and I’ve got 3 sisters and my brother to support…..if I’m out of a job they’ll go into care!” she pleaded.  
Robin immediately offered her a supportive and reassuring hand on her back. 

“What Cherry and Ellie have told me is happening here is illegal….and nobody should have to do go along with this. It isn’t the job role you agreed to and is completely out of order. Whoever is responsible should pay!” she stated with a degree of calm authority that made Strike’s eyes soften in pride.

“But surely it’s just our word against theirs?” Carmen hissed, “And you know what that means when people have money! And……people would have to know….wouldn’t they?”  
Robin nodded slowly.

“I assume by that you’ve told nobody else then? You spoken to each other though yeah?” Cormoran asked.  
Both therapists nodded.

“OK, so how about if both of you swear to speak in confidence about the other person; what they’ve reported to you? Dates, actual discussions, anything they had to do that isn’t part of being a beauty therapist. That way, if we anonymise them nobody else need ever know…..it could be anyone here, couldn’t it?” he added, seeing flashes of possibility between Carmen and Cherry at his suggestion.

Robin saw that Cherry was the more eager and committed of the pair.  
“Look, don’t give us an answer now, think about it and gather as much proof as you can – even if you think it doesn’t matter; things like times and places where discussions took place, or where activities took place etc. If you want to help Ellie bring this to an end we’ll give Dom our contact details. Get in touch away from here and we’ll arrange something,” Robin explained.

Cormoran had almost forgotten that he was practically naked and moved in order to reach for his prosthetic.   
Robin glimpsed a significant swathe of hairy thigh before he hastily covered himself, nodding in thanks as Carmen passed his leg across.  
“Can you just give me a minute and wait for me at the lift?” he suggested and waited until they had left before reattaching the limb – he would need to apply some of the powder he used to make sure the fit was secure later – he hadn’t realised how warm he’d become under the towels.

Robin allowed Carmen and Cherry to leave via the maze of staff corridors and loitered at the lifts, dimly trying not to think about how much of her work colleague she'd just clocked, and willing herself to focus on the way more pressing issue of women being sexually manipulated.

Cormoran caught his breath slightly when he eventually emerged and found Robin leaning against the wall beside the lift.  
She’d removed the clip from her hair; her cheeks were perfectly fresh and pink and her mouth was drawn initially into a soft pout, before quirking into a small eye roll upon his arrival.  
“Bloody hell! This is dreadful!” she hissed, noting Strike’s placid but clearly seething body language as he thumped the lift button.

“Yeah….fucking awful. We have to find out who it is and get as many of the others on board….you know that? Carmen is right in a way….their word against God knows who!” he grumbled.

With his hands thrust into the pockets of his bathrobe and slightly grumpy expression he looked like he did when he was wearing his overcoat and trailing after a mark in London…certainly not like someone who’d just had a massage.

Robin gave a deep inhalation as the lift doors closed, “We’d better pretend to be happier in case someone in the hotel sees us and thinks we’re not happy with the treatment!” she stated.  
Strike snorted and smirked, despite the hideous ‘almost information’ they’d not quite secured, “Well, that was actually rather relaxing before the pretty hideous ending….you smell good by the way.”

Robin blushed and grinned beside him, “That massive hot towel thing was gorgeous….I could have stayed there for ages,” she smiled and leaned slightly towards him, “You do smell like flapjack….or freshly made cake!”

Strike’s eyes flashed wide, “CAKE! We have cake from earlier……how about a midnight feast and a quick review of what we’ve learned?”

Robin nodded enthusiastically, “Good plan….and I may have something to tackle that lack of alcohol issue….don’t know about you but I bloody need a drink!”

He grinned, thinking about the booze he had stashed in his own room too – of course Robin would have brought catering!  
The doors to the lift swung open on the 2nd floor, “Right, give me a few minutes to put some clothes on and I’ll knock,” he stated, rummaging and locating his keycard from his pocket.  
Robin smirked back at him, “Cool, I suppose I should put some clothes on myself really….although this whole not bothering with a bra thing is a delight only another female would appreciate!”  
Cormoran paused and swallowed hard as he twisted the door handle, “I’ll take your word for it!”


	7. It's more like carrot cake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, we have a slippery, oil soaked and flapjack scented Strike having a midnight feast with Robin.....with wine and whisky....and cake.....what could possibly happen to his equilibrium?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a long one.....I got slightly carried away #notevenalittlebitsorry

Quarter of an hour or so later, once he’d removed, powdered and reattached his leg, had a decent few puffs on his vaping device and dragged on sweat pants and a t shirt, and had a pee, he tucked the white wine and whisky he’d brought under his arm, and knocked on Robin’s door.

"S'open," came the shouted but slightly muffled voice on the other side of the door. 

Cormoran went inside and inhaled sharply at the sight of a discarded white lace bra and pair of equally lacy knickers just outside the door to the bathroom and cleared his throat.   
He mentally considered her comment as they’d parted and assumed that they must have been the ones she was wearing on arrival. He dimly considered that he’d probably assumed that she wore more practical, plain cotton style underwear for her daily life….although he really shouldn’t be staring at her knickers.   
He therefore forced himself to shake away the mental images which had begun to form in his mind as he strode more fully into the room and settled himself on the small sofa, idly investigating some device which was plugged into the socket and switched off.   
It appeared to be a pair of longish, flat plated tongs; he made a rhythmical tune by opening and closing them whilst sniffing and taking in the small collection of cosmetics scattered on the wooden surface below the wall mirror.

The slim console table beside the wall was set out with the same amenities tray he’d found in his own room; although he’d shuddered at the sight of herbal tea bags; with the addition of the plated up portions of chocolate and lemon cake which made Strike’s stomach growl and his mouth start to water slightly.

Robin emerged from her bathroom having dressed in a pair of loose, cream pyjama bottoms and a grey marl vest top which to his instant realisation clung to her clearly unsupported breasts exquisitely.  
He wasn’t sure whether it was a relief or not when she pulled a pale blue hoodie over the top, although he noticed that she didn’t fasten it, and he could definitely make out the position and slight indent of her belly button as she waggled the pair of glass tooth mugs in his direction and produced a bottle of red wine from her small suitcase.  
Her face initially fell upon seeing that he’d beaten her to it with the wine and whisky he had already placed next to the cakes; but the expression quickly became a smile as she realised how in synch they truly were, and also at the fact that he was fiddling with her hair straighteners.

“If you want me to tackle your unruly mop with those I’m gonna need significantly more wine!” she giggled and saw his face soften following an initial flash of ‘Oh, so that’s what they are!’

“I’ll pass….not sure my masculinity can cope with much more primping and preening!” he dragged one of his hands through his thick hair, creating a differently unique ‘style’ of messy perfection.   
Damn, his eyes really were incredibly green beneath those dark lashes. 

“You don’t usually go for red wine,” Strike stated as she handed the bottle across to him.

“I know, but I didn’t have room for two bottles…..and I know you’ll drink red….plus….I er, didn’t know if we’d have a fridge or anything,” she garbled a little, wanting to cover the fact that she was blushing as Cormoran twisted open the screw cap and poured them both a glass.

“It’ll go better with chocolate cake too,” he grinned, clinking her glass to his own and taking a large slurp from his glass - it was pretty decent - as he inclined his neck and eyebrows in the direction of the cake.  
Robin sniggered at his lack of subtlety and placed down her own glass in order to bring across the cakes.   
She sat cross legged on the small sofa beside Strike’s large form and inhaled deeply, recognising the pretty intoxicating aroma of cinnamon, orange and vanilla that was literally leaching out of Strike’s body given the warmth of the room.

Strike’s mind was trying to focus on the prospect of what looked like a really decent and generous slice of gooey chocolate cake rather than the fact that his gloriously relaxed and deliciously exotic scented work colleague (was it ylang? almonds? ...it was so unlike her usual perfume...it was playing tricks with his usual, treacherous level of control around her) and he had to compose himself further when she swiped a finger through the ganache topping on his dessert and sucked the tip of her finger into her pouting lips.

He really did try not to stare.  
Or at least he tried to make it obvious that he wasn’t staring!  
And he really, really tried to remind himself that it was only her finger she was sucking and groaning over….and not…..well, anything else!

Clearing his throat he took a massive mouthful of his cake to give him a different sensory overload.  
The guttural growl he gave was accompanied by an equally erotic expulsion of breath from Robin as she bit into her own lemon drizzle cake.

Several minutes passed permeated only by the sounds of heavenly filled mouths masticating sugar and butter and trying not to drool.   
Strike refilled his glass and drank most of it, enjoying how the flavours mingled on his tongue.  
Robin passed her plate towards Strike and he took a mouthful; emitting a growl and sharing an expression of delight with her.  
Taking a deep inhalation he felt himself relaxing back against the upholstery and briefly dragged himself out of his satiated state.

“Right, I suppose we should discuss what we know….work out what next?” 

Beside him, Robin lifted her head from where it had flopped back on her shoulders and nodded.   
With a replete huff she flicked a few crumbs from her front and settled her plate, still with a small wedge remaining, on the floor.

They spent the next forty minutes talking animatedly about their findings thus far. Robin left their cosiness on the sofa only to retrieve her laptop so that she could quickly type notes and make some amendments, and when she reseated herself discovered that her work colleague had sprawled slightly further across the space, meaning that she was required to wriggle her bottom, nudging his thigh in order to settle with the machine on her lap.

As they worked out a possible plan of action - actually 2 plans based on Carmen and Cherry coming forward to help or not - Strike was required to lean across and scrutinise the screen as she efficiently transferred their ideas and schedules, moving backwards and forwards across the various pages, timetables and word documents.   
Strike noticed her slender fingers; how they caressed the touchscreen and keyboard; how she waggled her index and middle fingers against her thumb pad when she was considering the correct wording to choose.

He’d already finished off the bottle of red wine; she had opened the white he had brought after consuming the initial glass of the red, and he’d moved onto the whisky. His already fraught equilibrium was hanging by a thread now that his cheek was resting against her soft bicep.

Robin had not typed anything for several minutes.

The wine had sunk down rather easily; it often did in Strike’s comfortable company; and combined with the after-glow of the massage she was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the screen rather than Cormoran’s bristled cheek and intoxicating scent as he leaned in to view the screen on her computer.  
He hadn’t spoken for a few moments, and his breath was hot on her forearm; she began to wonder whether he’d fallen asleep….he’d drunk the best part of a bottle of wine plus a decent quarter of the single malt he’d brought with him.

“Cormoran?” she asked tentatively, receiving a rumbling ‘mmmmhmmm?’ from the languid body beside her.  
“Can we do anymore tonight?”

Strike reluctantly eased himself upright, although his shoulder and body remained twisted towards Robin beside him. He saw her swallow and stare ahead at the computer screen.  
“I think we might have gone as far as we can…...although didn’t you still have a bit of cake leftover?” his eyes had done that crinkled edge thing they did (surely that was on purpose to mess with her brain!)

She snapped the laptop closed and swung upright, plugging it back into the cable near the wall, flicking on the kettle before returning to perch on the arm of the sofa, plate in hand.  
“There isn’t much left,” she stared sadly at the small piece of drizzle cake.

Strike lifted his chin and pouted at the meagre amount of cake, “What else you got, Ellacott?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow in his best, ‘I could be a one-legged James Bond’ manner.  
The kettle rumbled behind them, piquing Strike’s interest - although he vaguely recalled a lack of anything that resembled ‘proper tea’ - and Robin wrinkled her mouth and nose as she went across to her small case.  
Strike managed to somehow camouflage the groan he gave as she bent over to rummage inside.   
A mental image of those discarded white, lacy knickers flashed into his mind and he realised to his shame that he was becoming aroused beneath his sweatpants.  
He’d drunk rather a lot.  
And he was feeling rather too relaxed on the sofa.  
“I’m gonna have to pee,” he stated, finding that he needed even more of his upper body strength than usual in order to get up from the sofa.

“Well, I’m in the mood for a squiffy coffee. Can I steal some of your whisky?” she stated as she mixed sachets of instant coffee, sugar and hot water in a mug.

He nodded and swayed slightly; Jesus, he really had drunk quite a bit; “Feel free…..and yes please,” he preempted as she poised her hand over the second mug.

He considered the etiquette….should he go back and use his own ensuite loo? Or would it be OK using hers?  
They shared at work.  
This was work…..he was also dimly aware that his room card was over on the table beside the sofa and he was almost at the door to the bathroom….so…...fuck it!

Robin sloshed whisky into the mugs of steaming coffee, she smiled at the realisation that she could hear Cormoran’s pee hitting the toilet pan and also his grunt of ‘relaxed bladder’ satisfaction.  
She’d drunk quite a lot….the white wine bottle had about a small glass worth left in it…..plus the red wine before that….and now whisky.  
Oh God….and Cormoran smelled quite literally edible.

She brought herself back from mental images of him bare chested and staring at her in those massage room mirrors as she heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water at the sink.  
Strike emerged as she turned with the two mugs in her hands, bags of both chocolate and peanut M&Ms dangling from her mouth.  
He resumed his comfortable sprawl on the sofa and having handed him one of the coffees Robin slouched next to him, dragging one of her feet up onto the cushion and resting back against the warm fabric behind her, dropping the bags into her lap.

The coffee was strong - both in terms of coffeeness and alcohol content, it served to melt the chocolate as they tore open the bags and delved into the candy shelled goodies.  
Strike took a long, contented gulp and felt the mixture warm his insides….he also realised that he’d not felt the usual desire to top up his nicotine, or ‘nicotine replacement’ whilst seated so pleasantly beside Robin this evening.   
Maybe it was that intoxicating smell of essential oils that had worked to replace it…..or maybe that puffing device thing was a shit load stronger than regular fags!

Robin’s head had dropped sideways and was treacherously close to resting against his t shirted shoulder.   
Strike had taken control of the remnants of Robin’s lemon cake and had taken a large mouthful of it, combined with several peanut M&Ms.   
He felt her sigh and tilt her face up towards him as his crunching filled her ears.

“You don’t actually smell of flapjack you know,” she stated softly.

“Don’t I?” he lifted his right arm and sniffed at the skin on his forearm. “I do a bit!”

Robin shook her head and scooped up a small piece of her cake, “It’s more like carrot cake…..a bit.... spicy,” she trailed off, slotting the piece of sponge into her mouth slowly, Cormoran’s eyes flicking between hers and the sight of her full lips.  
She saw and heard him swallow.

“You know my opinion on vegetables in cakes…...they’re a con….although the topping on carrot cake is usually really good,” he stated, pursing his lips and maintaining his gaze on her.

Shit, he should probably stop staring at her, but her eyes looked so fucking sexy!

“I like licking the frosting stuff off the top,” she murmured, noticing that his pupils seemed quite wide and incredibly black.

He nodded back at her and slotted a red, candy covered peanut into his mouth, biting down on it as she continued, trying to not think about the tip of her pink tongue licking…..well, anything!

“It’s usually really creamy…..and…..sweet,” she realised she was watching Cormoran’s lips moving rhythmically as he chewed.  
Strike realised that he was staring quite unashamedly at Robin’s delectable lips…..and then he realised that she was staring equally unashamedly back at him….FUCK!

“Mmmmmm, yeah…..d’you want more?” he asked, his voice a deliciously husky rumble.  
Robin started fractionally before realising he was talking about the lemon cake and absently shook her head.   
It was enough to drag her away from dangerously erotic thoughts…….ridiculous to be thinking about licking Cormoran’s beard….or feeding him M&Ms from her tongue!

Bad Robin!

Strike cleared his throat and twisted his neck as Robin shifted to place the empty plate and her mug on the small unit on her side of the sofa.  
“What’s the plan for tomorrow then? I know you said we’ve got a hot stone thing, and that mud treatment….have we got times? I was hoping to go back to the pool, speak more to Dom….take advantage of his expertise again…..he helped with my swimming stroke a lot,” he queried, his voice croaking and faltering until it resumed it's usual timbre.

Robin scratched at the back of her neck, realising it was rather damp with warm sweat and scented oils still.  
“The hot stone thing is before lunch, 11 o’clock, and the mud thing after. I think the pool is a good idea - we should make Dom aware of Cherry and Carmen’s information. Should we do that after breakfast?”

Strike hadn’t factored in Robin joining him in the pool….he wasn’t sure why that was an issue; or indeed if it was…...they’d been virtually naked on massage tables earlier in the day...and his mind couldn’t even begin to fathom out what the mud treatment might include!

“OK…..I’ll see you for the delights of a vegan breakfast which presumably will be light enough to follow with a swim….about 9 work for you?” he asked, splaying his hand through his seriously ruffled hair and picking up his keycard as he hauled himself to his feet having managed to get his wayward sweatpant department under control.  
Robin nodded and swept up empty mugs and half consumed bags of chocolates in order to avoid staring at the shape of his backside which was neatly outlined where his sweatpants had ridden up between the cheeks of his rather deliciously pert arse.

Strike had reached the door as she came behind him, dumping the mugs into the bathroom sink before turning and finding herself very close to Cormoran’s large, but seriously comforting bulk.  
A further waft of eau de carrot cake, which was now mixed with his own uniquely masculine scent was almost her undoing, but rather than succumb to her desire to press her hand against his bulging left bicep resting on the door frame, she chucked him on his shoulder instead with the heel of her fist.

“Sleep tight…..don’t know about you but I’m knackered…...lying around being slathered in oils is exhausting!” she stated.

Strike smirked and made a small grunt of agreement as he twisted the handle and opened her door.  
“Yeah, let’s see what tomorrow brings. Sleep well Ellacott,” he stated, flashing her a soft lipped smile.

Once he’d closed the door behind him Robin fell back slightly against the wall and gave a mixed exhalation and growl.  
God….was it her imagination or had the atmosphere been charged between them?….maybe it was just the wine?

Back safely in his room Strike sighed and considered his behaviour and wayward thoughts.   
Robin was his work colleague….she didn’t deserve him thinking about her white lace knickers, or the way her arse looked bending over for those bags of chocolate…..although it was her that had started talking about licking the creamy, sweet, sticky (did he add sticky to the list?) topping off carrot cake….whilst staring straight at him!  
He glanced down at the erection which had sprung up beneath his soft, jersey trousers….he’d managed to keep it vaguely in check whilst pressed against Robin’s softly yielding body in her room….but it had been hard!  
He physically slapped his palm against his own cheek at his appalling, internal pun and his appalling lack of self control as he made his way across to his bed.

“Shit, she’s gonna be wearing a swimsuit in the morning!” he mumbled as he face planted on the duvet, muffling an “Ouch!” as his cock caught the relatively unyielding mattress.


	8. This should give the right idea then.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am just having FAR TOO MUCH FUN with this!  
> Plot? Who needs one of those?  
> This is just Strike and Robin in a swimming pool! Sort of pretending to be a couple, Strike being like a drowned Poseidon rising from the water.....I am not even a little bit sorry!  
> Enjoy.

The following morning, after what had felt like a ridiculously deep sleep for them both, they got themselves ready for another health and treatment filled day.

Robin had enjoyed a rather pleasing dream that had included an enormous carrot cake, herself and Strike wearing a towel and a smile. She’d been rather reluctant to leave the warm cocoon she’d created with her duvet.

Strike on the other hand had woken sharply, sitting upright and wide eyed following remarkably clear visions of Robin in white lace knickers and him following a trail of M&Ms down her otherwise naked body with his mouth.  
“You horny fucker!” he’d grumbled, rubbing his scalp viciously to remove the mental images before plunging himself beneath the shower and flicking the thermostat to cold….for rather a long time.  
Once he’d dressed himself casually in cargo pants, a t shirt and trainers he made his way down to the dining room, where Robin’s amber coloured hair was visible at one of the tables.

“Mornin’” he rumbled taking in her partially eaten bowl of what looked like granola with fresh fruit. He wrinkled his nose….it looked way too healthy to be enjoyable.

Robin smirked at him, guessing his thoughts, “Don’t worry, there are some kind of peanut butter muffins and pastry things as well as hot stuff….give it a chance, you enjoyed last night’s meal!”  
He nodded and ventured off, not hopeful, but returning a short while later with a satisfied looking expression.

“Vegan ‘mushroom bacon’ and tomato on toast; sounds odd, looks OK; coconut and banana pancakes and finally a decent black coffee!” he plonked the items down on the table and flashed a delighted grin in Robin’s direction.

They ate; Strike refilled his coffee several times while he could; Robin, he noticed was sticking to peppermint tea.  
Replete with food, Robin announced that she was heading up to her room to change and she would meet him in the pool.  
Strike followed her up after finishing his coffee and spent a short time honing his vaping skills before changing into his still slightly damp swimming shorts and trainers, throwing his towelling robe over the top and heading down to the familiar to him pool area.

Dom spotted him and gave a nod of recognition before giving him one of those manly, one grasped hand, one slapping shoulder greetings.  
Strike quickly and efficiently filled his fellow amputee in on the fact that Carmen and Cherry might approach him. He promised that he would aide them in any way and hastily began discussing possible swimming drills and weights routines loudly as another, unfamiliar male member of staff came by.

Once out of sight Dom hissed, “Max...don’t trust him as far as I could throw him!”  
Strike gave a nod as he perched on one of the wooden lounger beds around the pool in order to remove his prosthesis and bathrobe.

“My partner’s coming down in a bit,” he told Dom, noticing how Max’s eyes flicked over to them; he followed Dom’s lead and made a few comments linked to his partial limb.  
Dom seemed to be quick on the uptake because he angled his face in such a way as to speak unseen by Max, but moved his hands above Strike’s limb as if discussing it, “Robin’s coming down? Fucking hell, Max’s eyes’ll pop out of his head!”

“Is he in on it? Do you think he’s part of the shit that’s going on here?” Strike hissed.

Dom shrugged and helped haul the large man to his foot, helping him hop the single step needed before he could enter the pool via a small ramp, which was positioned in such a way as to act rather like a water covered slide.  
“He’s not pleasant….but he’s one of the bosses so….maybe that’s all it is. I’ve never heard of him being inappropriate with any of the staff…..but he’s always a bit…..on the edge of OK with clients…..wouldn’t put it past him to try it on with them...you know?”

Strike submerged himself in the pool and pushed off in order to plough to the other end using his arm-heavy front crawl.  
Dom remained watching his progress and made a couple of shouted comments, waiting until he appeared at the other end, panting and sloughing water from his face with his palms in order to suggest he try breathing when his face was twisted to his left rather than his right which might stabilise his weight through the water.  
Strike was trying the suggestion out as Robin entered the pool.   
She spotted Strike’s leg on the wooden lounger and stripped off her towelling robe to reveal a deep khaki one piece swimsuit with a halter neck.   
She twisted her hair up into a rough chignon and secured it with a tortoiseshell coloured clip before walking around to the deep end of the pool. Strike emerged at the opposite side of the pool in time to see her neatly dive into the water with a minimal splash, but enough of an impact to register interest in Max’s face.

Cormoran gritted his teeth as he splayed his arms out wide, settling against the side of the pool and allowing his breath to slow down following the exertion of 2 lengths of the pool.  
He also mentally chastised himself for having become so unfit - time was he would have been able to do at least 30 lengths without raising his heart rate to its current rapid rhythm.....although part of it's strength now could be due to seeing so much of Robin's body encased in her swimsuit.

Max was watching Robin as she swam elegantly, using a breaststroke, towards Strike.  
She flashed Cormoran a dazzling, smile. Water droplets glistened like crystals on her face and eyelashes and from the corner of his eye Strike noticed that Max was looking a little disconcerted.

“Pretty Boy over there is Max...Dom mentioned he’s a bit persistent with attractive female clients,” Strike hissed, all the while giving Robin a charming, off centred grin.  
He had one errant, darkly-wet curl twirling onto his forehead, and combined with his broad, glistening shoulders and the dark swathe of wet chest hair the opportunity was just too good to pass up.  
She brought herself much closer to him than was usual, resting one hand lightly on his bicep and trailed the fingers of her other hand to coax the wayward dark piece of hair to join the rest whilst maintaining her alluring smile.

“This should give the right idea then….let him know he is persona non grata with this particular client!” 

Strike willed his lower body to behave as he felt her foot kick against his full leg where it rested on the floor of the pool.   
Jesus, she was like a languid mermaid bumping against him.

Was it Robin’s imagination or was Cormoran flexing his muscles as she grasped his slippery upper arm?.....as if he needed to? They were rippling under his skin due to his position against the side of the pool. 

She willed her body to behave, although she had a sudden urge to wrap her legs around his thigh…..christ she was horny!

Strike cleared his throat and brought one hand to cup the nape of Robin’s neck and for a fraction of a second considered whether he should kiss her; completely piss off Pretty Boy Max; but Robin hissed from the corner of her still smiling mouth that ‘He’s gone now,’ and pushed herself back in the water using both palms on his chest before completing a further length of front crawl.

Strike submerged himself fully and exhaled a lengthy stream of bubbles before resurfacing in time to see Cherry and Carmen enter the poolside area and head towards where Dom was arranging rolled towels into a pyramid shape.  
Cherry flashed a quick and quite covert glance around but recognised Robin and Strike immediately.  
Robin raised her eyebrows to Cormoran and made her way over to the roman steps of the pool.   
He tried to ignore the seductive wriggle of her hips as she walked up them and captured one of the large towels.

Cherry appeared to have engaged her in conversation, and judging by Robin’s expression there was also some other secretiveness going on.  
He remained, arms crossed over on the side of the pool, chin resting on his hands as he kicked his full leg lazily to remain floating and watched as a small paper type bag was handed across together with Robin stating loudly - due to the reappearance of Max - “That’s so kind...I loved the blend you mixed up, I’d never have replicated it….just got to get him to try and replicate your magical hands now!” she gave a tweak of her head in Strike's direction.

As she spoke she realised that she was truly imagining what it might feel like to have her work colleague running his large, oil covered hands across her body and found that she’d sat down rather heavily onto one of the nearby wooden lounger beds.  
“What’s this all about then?” Max asked in a highly accented Scottish/Indian drawl, his eyes fixing on the bag at Robin’s side.

Carmen bit her lip, Cherry opened and closed her mouth but Robin stepped in.  
“I had the most perfect massage last night; or rather me and my partner did; and Cherry has very sweetly made up some more of the massage oil she used. Isn’t that wonderful? Talk about going above and beyond to ensure client satisfaction!”

Max’s eyes shone and much to Robin’s disgust he stroked both therapists on their shoulders in what could only be considered a predatory manner.   
Strike had seen enough and felt too far away, so he dived beneath the surface of the pool and emerged just poolside to where the group were.  
“Everything OK? Hi Carmen, Cherry….thanks for that massage,” he stated and pulled himself out of the water on his arms, fists clenched on the tiled edge of the pool, his waist remaining beneath the water.  
It had the effect of making him appear huge and imposing, which of course Robin knew was exactly his aim.

“Glad you’re enjoying the facilities and services. These two are good girls,” Max purred, although the simpering smile vanished as he met Strike’s granite-like expression.

“They’re very skilled, and dedicated to their jobs. There’s a reason why they had so much training I suppose….obviously or you wouldn’t have employed them. They’re doing an excellent job,” Strike stated.   
He was beginning to realise that he would need to duck back down in the water - emerging fully now and flashing his half limb would hardly back up the ‘don’t mess with me’ image he’d sought to create infront of Max.  
Fortunately Max seemed to take the hint that Robin was definitely taken, and by someone who looked like he could knock him unconscious with one punch, and Cherry and Carmen appeared to be simply checking their rota with Dom and delivering the oil….so he ambled off back through to the office he shared with others in management positions.

Cherry hissed a quick, “In the bag, good luck,” before she and Carmen left. Robin noticed Carmen giving a huge shoulder relaxing sigh as they exited, and Cherry’s arm moved around her friend in a squeeze.  
Robin smiled.  
They had them.   
They trusted them.   
They would help.

Whatever was in the bag other than massage oil could wait.  
She released her hair from it’s clip and gave it a quick shake before twirling a second towel around it and securing the turban with a tuck of the fabric.  
Strike had made it across to the metal poles walkway and ramp that he’d used to enter the pool and was easily able to hop his way out and across to his bathrobe and towel.  
Robin made her way over to him, carrying her bag and towel.

Strike was again struck by the fact that he could make out the small dimple of her belly button beneath the wet material of her swimsuit. He was also greeted by the sight of a creamy, soft chasm between her breasts, made even more glorious by the rivulets of water still trickling their way down it as she sat opposite him.  
“You alright?” he asked. It reminded her of the way he’d checked on her when they’d had that leg delivered to the offices.

“I’m fine,” she stated confidently, “Takes more than a slime ball like Max to knock me off my game you know?” she quipped.  
He gave a rueful wrinkle of his lips, “Never doubted it Ellacott. You reckon they’re in?”  
Robin nodded.

“I’m gonna pop upstairs and check out what’s in here, meet you in therapy room 6 for our hot stone massages in half an hour!” and she swept up her bathrobe and gift bag and gave him a sweet and rather unexpected little wave as she left the pool area.  
He realised that his lips had formed a small, genuine smile and rebuked himself…..work colleague Robin.   
Robin who was so good at thinking on her feet. So good at acting like a romantic interest in order to fend off unwanted attentions.

He patted at his partial limb, willing the dampness to cease so that he could reattach his prosthetic and head back up to his room. Dom spotted his predicament and wandered across, his bladed limb allowing him to almost jog towards Strike, proffering a familiar canister of the same powder most amputees used in order to ensure as little moisture as possible affected their cuff.  
“Cheers Dom,” he stated, liberally covering the bottom of his stump. “I’m due to have a bloody hot stone massage next….what exactly do they do?”

Dom sniggered, “Basically it does what it says on the tin; they massage you and put hot stones all over you…..it’s nicer than it sounds; actually one of the few things that takes away that....persistent ache!”  
Strike rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks, “I’m guessing it’s a pants and tiny towel job again….” he trailed off, his eyes glazing slightly at the thought that Robin would presumably be beside him again.  
Dom smirked, “There’s worse jobs I suppose…..especially when your partner’s clearly got the hots for you! Lucky bastard!”

Strike felt the canister of talc being removed from his hand as Dom about turned and headed off towards a cupboard on the wall, removing some vials and a long handled scoop in order to start testing the Ph level of the water.  
Cormoran was naturally taken aback by Dom’s comment - although to be fair the man had just witnessed Robin rubbing up against him in the swimming pool and obviously had no idea that she was just doing her job!  
She was just doing her job.....nothing more.....you horny tosser!


	9. Fuzzily haired upper buttock!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> La La La La La - hands in my ears, I don't care how indulgent and unbelievable this has become...I'm calling it therapy!  
> I have decided that Robin has a tattoo - which she got done to celebrate being newly divorced - sue me!  
> I have also made a rather shallow and pathetic attempt to drag the threads of plot together...please don't over think it all (I certainly haven't!) This really is just an opportunity to imagine and describe Cormoran in various states of undress and embarrassment!

He made his way to his room, had a rather lengthy visit to the bathroom which made his fresh boxers fit better - he blamed the vegan diet! - and having dragged on his trainers and bathrobe made his way towards the treatment room, arriving just after 11 o’clock.  
It was a different treatment room to ones they had previously used, heavily mirrored and again containing a couple of treatment beds with Robin, naked from the waist up lying on her front on one of them.

“You’re late!” she quipped, flashing ridiculously seductive eyes towards Strike who pressed his lips together as she squirmed slightly to face him more fully, although she remained largely pressed against the covered bench to cover herself.  
“Our friends Magda and Connie are back, they’re doing these massages for us...and I think that Carmen and Cherry might have said something to them,” she hissed.

Strike gave an interested purse of his lips and glanced at the second treatment table.  
“I’ll avert my eyes!” Robin smirked and promptly turned her face to point at the opposing wall.

Strike quickly perched on the side of the couch and removed his prosthetic, propping it against one of the supports before removing his towelling robe and swivelling himself onto the bed, reaching down and grabbing what he assumed was the small towel intended for draping over his backside (and in his case precious little else due to his size relative to the towel’s!)  
He heard Robin give a sharp squeal and saw her head twist around rapidly on her shoulders.

“Oi! I might not have been ready...or decent!” he grinned, but noted her wide eyes and blushing cheeks. “What’s up?”

Robin gave a second squeal, “That’s not your towel,” she stated and gave a third shriek as Strike’s neck twisted sharply to take in the sight of his own towel draped buttocks and Robin’s perfectly creamy and rounded bottom, with just the smallest sliver of pale blue lace visible between the cleft of her arse and her lower back.

He swallowed, very visibly….but somehow appeared unable to avert his eyes.

It was the sight of the small, deep crimson and pink flower tattoo at the top of her left buttock that was holding his gaze.

He desperately wanted to twist his head and get the correct perspective on it, but even his vaguely frozen brain recognised that it would probably be highly inappropriate.

“It’s a lotus flower,” Robin stammered, pouting and moving her face to try and make Cormoran make eye contact with her….although the fact that his mouth was slightly ajar and his eyes had glazed over a little was rather empowering.   
Somehow Strike registered Robin’s voice, “What?” he asked dumbly, finally meeting her rather amused and twinkling eyes.

“My tattoo….it’s a lotus flower. It means rebirth, or new beginnings….you can probably imagine when I had it done,” she explained.

Strike’s gaze had found its way back to Robin’s beautifully dimpled bottom.   
How could the knowledge of a tattoo suddenly be sexy?   
It had been there for months if she'd got it done after her divorce….all that time it had been there and he’d not known and never thought about it…..and now….well, now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to think about anything else in her presence.

“Can I have my towel back?.....Cormoran?....Towel?”

Again he registered that she was speaking to him, “Hmmm? Yeah...towel, of course, sorry….here...shall I...put it….erm….” he gestured vaguely at her bottom and by twisting was able to cover the perfection that he would forever know was there.

Robin stifled her snigger - he had looked all stiff and reticent, like one of those old adverts showing you how to put out a chip pan fire with a damp tea towel!  
He hastily covered his checked boxer shorts with the towel that he should have used initially and mumbled a further, “I’m sorry Robin, I just reached and…..well….”  
What could have been an awkward on the scale never previously experienced silence was thankfully interrupted by the arrival of Magda and Connie, each clutching a small implement piled with grey pebbles.  
They placed them down on the side counter and brought small, now familiar dishes of oil across to them on the tables.

“Are you happy to have me give you your massage?” Connie asked Robin who nodded her consent.  
Magda smiled and moved across to Strike, “Swedish massage is one of my particular skills. It’s nice to have such a wide area to work on!”  
Strike wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not, but merely said, “OK.”

Connie briefly explained that they would apply oil and use the heated stones in their hands whilst delivering long fluid strokes the full length of their back,arms and legs.  
She noticed Cormoran’s wince at this, Magda hastily interrupted, “Don’t panic, it’s actually going to be really good for your limb. Dom has one of these every week, says it eases the ache. The benefit of using the stones is we don’t have to use as much pressure, so you get a deep tissue effect without so much force. Trust me,” she smiled and nodded seeing his resignation.

“And anyway,” Connie stated using a very different tone of voice, “If you want us to trust you and agree to do what Carmen and Cherry are doing to help Ellie you should try and trust us a bit!”  
Robin flipped her head up and round from where she had settled it on her crossed forearms.  
“You mean?.....”

Magda nodded softly, “Cherry told us what you’d talked about….we’ve both…..not all the way but….yeah, we’ve done some stuff that wasn’t on the treatment list in the past…..you have to here or they’ll get rid of you.”

Connie’s voice sounded, “But if they’re willing to talk then we will too….like you said to them though….we’ll both tell you on behalf of each other…..my parents can never know….I’m engaged….he can NEVER find out.”  
Both Robin and Strike nodded gently.

“Of course,” Strike reassured them. “We’ll arrange it so that you remain anonymous….although you shouldn’t be ashamed of yourselves. The vile shit responsible is the only one who should be!”  
Robin’s eyes softened and felt watery all of a sudden.

Both therapists gave deep breaths and nodded, seemingly happy with their decision, and the fact that they’d made a commitment to change their and their colleagues’ futures.

“So, it will just be a basic almond oil, the heat is the main component, so let us know if any area is particularly sensitive as we go along,” Magda assumed her professional persona again and began liberally coating Strike’s back and shoulders with oil before taking a flat, basalt stone in each palm and beginning to sweep along his skin in long strokes.  
Connie did the same to Robin, and pretty soon each was emitting small sounds of pleasure as the combination of highly trained hands, warm, smooth stones and oils worked their magic on tired, knotted muscles.

Connie moved to start working on Robin’s legs whilst Magda remained reducing Strike to a purring heap of drowsy contentment.   
Robin watched in one of the mirrors and stifled a chuckle - he resembled Baloo from The Jungle Book when he found a perfect back scratching tree.

From somewhere in his subconscious he felt her eyes on him, “Are you laughing at me, Ellacott?” he mumbled.

“No! But you do look rather wrung out,” she giggled, as he flicked open one of his closed eyelids and shot her a lazy grin.

The small part of his brain that was able to function recognised that her therapist was not focused on her back.   
Looking in the mirror’s reflection he saw that she had several of the flattish pebbles resting along the centre of her back whilst Connie was running her hands, presumably containing more of the stones, up and down Robin’s slender calf.  
Magda’s voice interrupted his brief fantasy of trying to pinpoint the exact location of that lotus flower beneath her towel - he reckoned he’d get within a 5p coin’s distance of it from memory! 

“I’m going to focus on your lower back; you have quite a lot of tension there, probably from how you move, but I’m going to place some of the stones around your partial leg so that the heat starts to permeate. Are there any particularly sensitive parts?”

Strike wasn’t used to discussing his leg in such a matter of fact manner, but he worked on the assumption that Magda was used to dealing with Dom and his disability.  
“Erm, actually the very end section has no feeling at all. But I find the part, sort of a hand up on the inside is where I get the most pain and aching.”

Magda rather pleasingly applied several of the large, flat stones under and around his partial limb before moving to the towel at his waist.  
“I’m just adjusting this a little bit,” and before he had the opportunity to query she had pulled the towel lower down and folded the waistband of his boxer shorts in on itself to reveal what could only be described as arse, rather than back.

Robin dutifully swapped her leg over, allowing Connie to soothe the muscles in her other calf and wriggled slightly to change her arms over beneath her chin without dislodging the pebbles along her spine.  
She gave a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the curve of Strike’s lower back and a small amount of what looked like fuzzily haired upper buttock.  
What surprised her slightly more however was the fact that Cormoran himself appeared completely at ease given their proximity, the fact that they were half naked, he’d seen her arse and was having his partial leg made a focus of attention. 

She watched as Magda’s efficient hands kneaded and smoothed up and down the curve of his lower back, and she found her tongue licking delicately across her upper lip each time the therapists hands crested the top section of visible skin nestling just beneath the towel.  
She became aware that Connie was asking her a question and without having been paying attention had no idea what she agreed to doing, although judging by her therapists actions it was merely to allow more of the heated stones to be placed behind her knees.  
She hummed softly and allowed her eyes to drift closed, facing Strike without paying too much attention to this fact as she slumbered lightly.

When her eyes drifted open she was met with Strike’s soft, puggish pout, his face nestling against his folded forearms and his breathing coming in a deep, steady rhythm.  
Robin could hear movement behind her and twisted to become aware of Magda who was tidying away some of the used oil dishes and now cold basalt pebbles quietly.  
“I think our reactions speak for themselves in terms of how relaxing that was,” Robin said in hushed tones so as not to disturb Strike, who gave a soft hissing sound beside her and a slightly irregular exhalation.

Magda smiled at her, “Are you and Mr Strike good…..in your work I mean….if….I mean….will us speaking out actually achieve anything?” she asked.  
Robin recognised the look behind the young woman’s eyes. 

“We’re good. And, with you and Cherry and Carmen and Connie, and Ellie we should have a pretty strong case,” Robin said, she shuffled around and took the opportunity of Strike sleeping in order to retrieve her bathrobe and cover herself. “It’s important to stop this happening, you know that. And in time, it will help you…..just trust me on that….knowing that you did something.”

Strike had roused and heard the final part of Robin’s calming but forceful speech. He cleared his throat and inhaled deeply to signify that he was conscious.  
Magda was now nodding softly, her lip gripped between her teeth.

“You know that Graham Watson, the big in charge guy, he’s in massive debt?” both Robin and Strike nodded, he manoeuvred himself around on the treatment table and slid the small towel covering his hips across to cover his lap as he swivelled himself to dangle his leg and a half off the side.  
Robin acted without thinking too hard and offered him his prosthetic before sitting herself on the bendy, beech wood Ikea chair in the corner.

Magda continued as Strike began attaching the cuff and rest of his leg.  
“Well, he’s not going to reduce it until he stops getting blackmailed….by Daria.”

Both Robin and Strike gave their best ‘swan’ expressions (calm on the outside but paddling like mad underneath the surface) and listened as Magda outlined what she knew, which was that Daria was blackmailing Graham Watson because she had images showing him involved in a tryst with a young, possibly not even legal aged, guy.   
He was standing for local government and couldn’t risk the scandal, so for the past 18 months had been paying Daria off. In order to get the money to pay off Daria he had been forcing his daughter, Salina, to get the therapists to offer additional services, and apparently if she refused to do it he’d threatened to arrange a marriage for her to some disgusting old guy who was loaded, but a complete creep. 

“Any proof?” Strike asked, calmly.

Magda winced, “I’ve only got a few images on my phone from ages ago, and part of a conversation between Daria and Graham….but it seems too vague to be of any use!”

Robin shook her head, “Don’t say that…..this whole process is like a big jigsaw, your one tiny piece fits together with tiny bits from other people; and then we fill in the gaps before we tackle the perpetrator. This is all valuable, right?” she glanced across at Strike who nodded.

“Definitely, and more importantly it needs to stop. You need to be able to continue to do your jobs without being sexually exploited. It’s all important, even if you don’t think it is. Dom’s got our details and you can send anything to the office when it suits you, or I can arrange for one of us or another of our team to contact you,” his tone was a mixture of brusque but reassuring, and Magda gave a nodding smile as she indicated they could leave.

Strike internally considered what he'd learned - the case seemed complex, but possibly solvable; hot stones really did offer a very pleasing effect on his partial limb; and Robin's arse was first class......and decorated with a crimson lotus flower.   
He glanced down at her body as they made their way out of the treatment room.....yeah....definitely within a 5p coin....right about...there - he just about managed to stop himself reaching out and placing his index finger against her robe, his thoughts interrupted by her voice.  
"Up?" she asked, indicating the lift button.  
He inhaled and sighed, "Yup, definitely."


	10. I prefer you to smell like you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little interlude between treatments and a stroll in the grounds has Robin wishing that Strike smelled like his usual, tobacco scented self.  
> And Strike considers his feelings for Robin....a bit!

Making their way back up to their rooms in the lift Robin finally let out a deep huff of breath. “Bloody hell!”  
Strike gave a resigned sigh, “I know. This is bigger and more complicated than I thought….but, we’ve got people on our side willing to talk. Have we met this Salina person yet?”

Robin shook her head, “No, but she is going to assist Dom with our mud treatments later on…..what the hell should we do? I was assuming we’d try and get her to support Ellie, but……..?”

“I’ll mull it over while I have some lunch,” he replied. “You joining me?”  
Robin nodded, “Yeah, just let me sling some proper clothes on.”

They separated on the hallway.   
Once inside his room Strike tried not to think about the fact that Robin would be stripping off her bathrobe and wandering about her room in those ridiculously small, lacy knickers….and he definitely tried not to think about the exact colour and location of that lotus flower tattoo. However, his stomach rumbled which distracted him enough to make it to the bathroom, pee, shower to remove the remnants of oil on his skin before drying off and dressing in jeans and a t shirt. 

Inside her room Robin stripped off her bathrobe and tried not to think about the fact that Cormoran would be doing similar next door.   
She didn’t think about his blue and red checked boxer shorts, or the rather delectably lickable curve of his backside in them. However, she realised she was ravenous, and also that her hair was slightly sticky with oily residue from the massage, so she showered and washed her hair, drying it off roughly with the hairdryer in the room and combing it through rather than tong it straight.

A brisk knock on the door as she was adding a few notes to her laptop whilst Madga’s comments were fresh in her mind, was followed by Cormoran entering on hearing her shouted “S’open.”

He smirked at her, his eyes crinkling at the sides, “I bet I can guess what you’re doing?”

She grinned but her eyes didn’t leave her keyboard as her fingers flew lightly across the keys, “Just getting as much down as I can remember.” and she tapped what was presumably a full stop with a flourish before finally glancing up and meeting his smile.

Lunch was a pleasant affair, which again forced Strike to consider that vegan food might not be the trauma he’d assumed - although he ascertained that if he had to try and cook any of the delicious meals they’d eaten whilst at the spa himself he’d need to work part time and turn his entire flat into a kitchen!

They had a couple of hours before their mud treatment and it was a nice day, so after a quick detour to his room to collect his vaping device they took a walk around the hotel grounds.  
Their easy stroll gave them an opportunity to discuss the case further, Cormoran shared his ideas about possible ways forwards as he sucked on the vaping thing, creating voluminous clouds of odourless ‘smog’.  
“You could have had a proper smoke you know,” Robin mentioned.

“I know, but….it feels wrong to be walking around a health spa reeking like an ashtray!” and he sucked again on the implement, drawing the weird ‘smoke’ down into his lungs before exhaling through his nostrils.

“Yeah, but….I don’t know….you don’t smell right!” Robin stated, wrinkling her nose.

Strike’s eyebrows arched up into his hairline, “What….not flapjacky enough for you?”  
She was blushing, he noticed, why was she blushing?

“No! Just…..you’re supposed to smell of tobacco not essential oils!”

He stopped himself from tossing the vaping device to the ground as if it were the stub from a cigarette, “Well, I’ll be back to normal by Monday; I think that overcoat of mine in the office is 50% nicotine at this stage! Anyway, most people would prefer this!” he gave a slight shrug and sniffed at his own upper arm, “I’ve never taken so many showers in such a short space of time!”

She giggled, “I know, that ruddy massage oil gets everywhere!” she twisted her head away from him, “But I prefer you to smell like you….s’more…..reassuring!”

Cormoran regarded her profile and the soft, pink blush to her cheeks and neck, “Well…..heaven only knows what I’ll smell like after this mud bath thing…..remind me again what the benefits of this are?”  
She laughed as they started to head back towards the building.

As he once more removed his clothes and put on his very damp swimming shorts (he’d completely forgotten that he’d need them again and had discovered them in a sodden heap on his shower room floor) he considered his relationship with Robin for about the 9 millionth time.  
She was beautiful, in the absolute truest sense.   
Beauty literally radiated from her face like sunbeams.   
She was the best part of his life and had been for quite some time. He daren’t risk that for the chance of more….because that always ended….and he couldn’t envisage or even dare to consider an end for him and Robin.  
Even after sacking her he still felt sure that it wouldn’t be the end for them.

But he’d been around her in various states of undress for the past day and a half….and that tattoo! 

Still, they had a very good chance of wrapping up this nasty case; as long as all of the therapists came forwards and didn’t change their minds...and they had a shot with Salina...and she appeared to be in this up to her neck!

With a sniff and a shrug he grabbed his trusty towelling robe and knocked on Robin’s door again, flashing her a wide grin as she appeared wearing her robe and with her hair swirled up into a towel turban again.  
“I’m taking no chances with this mud!” she stated as they started their descent down to the suite off one of the corridors near to the pool area.

“I’ll be honest, I was a little sceptical about all this….but, Dom was right about the hot stones thing….my leg feels remarkably ache free….and that hasn’t been the case since half of it fell off!” Cormoran announced.

“Hmmm, I just hope they know what they’re doing with this though….I mean I can’t pull you out of a mud bath if you get stuck in there!” she quipped. “No offence!”

“None taken…..but to be honest, unless they’ve got a winch handy NOTHING will budge me out of a vat of mud. But Dom did promise me that it’s highly therapeutic, so they have a device!”

Robin’s face mimicked Strike’s look of abject terror, “That sounds ruddy sinister!”

“I know, especially as we descend into the bowels of the hotel….and have dodgy Salina to meet!” he gallantly opened the door to the treatment suite and followed Robin, inadvertently glancing down at her rear and imagining the location of that lotus flower….again!


	11. Hot, slathered Cormoran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid I got rather carried away with this bit.....Cormoran lounging in hot mud was the whole purpose of this fic!  
> So here is part one!  
> Who can resist that chapter title?!

The room had that aroma of dampness; but unlike the swimming pool there wasn’t that pervading aroma of chlorination. Instead there was a somewhat pungent, and not unpleasant, menthol smell which both Robin and Strike inhaled and acknowledged simultaneously with soft grunts of pleasure.

The room they had entered was small; more like a hallway.   
There was a large archway leading through to a further, slightly larger space which contained a central, polished teak coloured bench and a few potted palms.  
They met each others’ eyes and gave similar wrinkle lipped shrugs at the lack of obvious activity.

Strike sat himself on the bench and allowed his prosthetic to stretch out.  
Robin vaguely considered that this was by far the most open he’d ever been about his partial limb in her presence.   
To her it was just a part of who he was - she’d not known him ‘whole’, or as she preferred to think of it, as different to now; so having to make minor adjustments and considerations for it was just part of her relationship with him.

“Did the hot stone thing really help then?” she asked, glancing briefly up to his thigh, the black cuff of which was visible below the hem of his shorts.  
He gave a comfortable nod and lifted his heel as he replied, “It really was. I mean, it always hurts, like….always, in some way….but like Dom said, the sort of dull ache part has definitely gone - although it might just be because we haven’t been walking miles, trailing after suspects for the past few days!”  
Robin nodded in agreement, “Might be worth seeing if there is someone local in London who does them though…..see if it helps, make it a weekly thing like Dom does?”

His nod of consideration was interrupted by the arrival into the space of Dom and Hettie, the young therapist who had given Strike the hands on input in the pool the previous day.  
Dom gave a small shrug, “Sorry we’re a bit late, I’ve had to get a replacement for Salina….she seems to have not turned up today…..you know anything about it?

Both Robin and Strike shook their heads and Robin glanced at Hettie’s face; clearly Dom had explained some of their role at the spa to her; but her eyes were more firmly fixed on Strike as she spoke.  
“I offered to stand in…..hope that’s OK with you?”

Robin saw Strike meet her gaze and give an appreciative nod; Robin stifled the comment of “Oh for fuck’s sake” she wanted to give by clearing her throat.  
Strike noted the sound and gave a narrow eyed, thoughtful stare at his partner.   
That was Robin’s ‘FFS!’ throat clear….he’d heard and seen it before - usually when they were interviewing female clients who were getting a bit eager!  
Surely she wasn’t thinking Hettie was in that category?   
She was so young…..the swim shorts he was wearing were probably older than her!

Dom ignored the tension in the room which had suddenly become tenser than a high wire.  
“Just so you know, I had some interesting documents handed to me this morning…..by Max of all people. Note on them says basically he wants whatever is going on here sorted out without it impacting upon him. I haven’t looked, but I’ll hand it across later on.”  
Strike flashed interested eyebrows across at him and then at Robin, who had resumed her more usual expression as the case was mentioned.

Hettie had gone through a pair of double doors, which she had left ajar and a further waft of the highly mentholated air triggered everyone to inhale sharply and pleasurably.  
She rejoined them and this time directed her eyes towards Robin as she deftly removed the t shirt and shorts she was wearing to reveal her slender, toned body in a practical, but not unattractive navy blue one piece suit.

Dom and Strike feigned nonchalance, but were aware of the almost predatory eye contact going on between the two females.  
“It’s going to get messy in there….and wet,” the young therapist stated, flashing her eyes briefly towards Strike’s purposefully ignorant body.

“I assumed it would,” Robin stated and peeled off her bathrobe to reveal a stunning emerald green, two piece bikini comprising a halter neck top with a deep band beneath her perfectly supported breasts and a pair of hipster style bottoms, which Strike knew would reveal a small section of that Lotus flower when she turned around.  
Both men made eye contact in a silent acknowledgement that in their opinion it was now one nil to Robin in whatever battle was going on between the pair of women.

“Should we all go through and I’ll get you settled Cormoran?” Dom interjected, breaking the sizzling tension.

All 4 made their way through the double set of doors and were met with two, fairly regular sized and shaped baths which were three quarters full of a rich, greeny-brown mud.  
Robin made a squealing, “Eeeek” sound and bounced on her tiptoes at the sight and the thought that she was presumably going to be submerged in the gloopy mixture.  
The aroma of eucalyptus and menthol was stronger, and it was serving to clear her nostrils in a pleasing manner.

Dom was moving a sturdy looking metal contraption into place beside one of the baths - it resembled the bottom of a fork lift truck, but had a seat attached and a triangular orange handle on a covered chain hanging above.  
Strike regarded it with a look of mild embarrassment and distaste, but Dom’s matter of fact manner was somehow reassuring.

“So, you get the royal treatment mate! Sit, slide across, lower yourself down, and then do the reverse to get out. It gets covered in this stuff,” he indicated the mud, “But the whole thing then moves you into the shower area, which is very much part of this process….blasts the shit out of you!”

Dom gave a grin that really was reminiscent of their ‘colleague’ Shanker - just missing the glinting golden tooth, thought Robin.

“So, what, I sit on this thing under the shower? I can probably stand ok once I get the stuff off my foot and leg,” Strike almost whinged, and Robin felt a fierce surge of pride in his unwillingness to let his lack of limb make him be treated differently.  
Hettie however gave a snorting laugh and moved to hold up one of the long hose type shower attachments.   
She pressed some hidden trigger and a slightly terrifying jet of highly pressured water spurted out.  
Dom gave his fellow amputee a ‘Told you so’ grin.

“Reckon you can stay on your foot with that blasting at you?” he chuckled as Strike gave an eyebrow raising grin of dawning.

“Maybe I’ll sit after all!” he stated, chuckling.

Robin however was now slightly concerned, “Can I have that option?” she asked, amusement behind her expression of aghast fear.  
Dom however laughed and shook his head softly, “Don’t worry, by the time the jet reaches you it isn’t as fierce, and I’m sure this guy’ll be gentle on you,” he patted Strike on his broad shoulder as he had shrugged out of his robe and was sitting to remove his prosthetic and place it inside the opened, clear plastic bin liner that Hettie had appeared with.

“What d’you mean?” he asked, tossing the silicon cuff into the bag as well and indicating wordlessly that he was done.  
Dom flashed his gaze between the detectives, “Well…..that’s all part of the fun…..you get to hose each other down to remove the mud!” 

Strike met Robin’s gaze and raised his eyebrow mischievously.

“Is this where I get my own back for all those early morning surveillance shifts I seem to get on the apparently random schedule?” he asked, grinning with clear amusement.  
Robin stood her ground, hands on her softly curving hips, “Don’t get any ideas! Work on the assumption that whatever you do to me I get to do back to you!”  
A flash of partially hidden desire connected their gaze momentarily before Hettie yet again interrupted the almost feverish electricity between the work colleagues.

“Someone’s phone is ringing,” she stated abruptly, indicating the towelling robe Strike had abandoned, passing it across as he was now encumbered by his lack of limb.  
Fumbling in the pocket he removed the device and regarded the unknown number of the incoming call and flashed Robin a brief, intrigued frown.  
“Strike speaking, how can I help you?”

Robin made her way across.   
Cormoran was focused on the discussion on the phone and only partially noticed that Robin’s belly button was directly in his line of vision, and that she was absently nibbling on the thumb nail of her right hand….and her left nipple was colder than her right one….but he only vaguely noticed!

“Right….OK then, I’ll get my colleague to call you back and we can arrange a meeting. Our offices are based in London, does that work for you?”  
Apparently he received an affirmative and hung up, puffing out his cheeks and smiling unashamedly at Robin’s expectant face.

“That was Graham Watson….apparently he wants to talk to us and is under no delusions about what that will flag up….and he is prepared to give us whatever we need to bring this to an end!” his shoulders visibly relaxed, and Robin rocked on her tiptoes slightly.

“Wow!...... Brill!......Looks like a result then!” she stammered, trying to consider whether this new fact alone would be enough to get the case solved, or handed over to the police which Strike had already told her would be his preferred method.

Cormoran nodded, “I reckon, yeah….so, in the absence of the Tottenham for our usual celebratory drinks, shall we go and lounge around in some hot mud?”  
With a slight spring in her step Robin trotted across to the bath which was ‘hers’ by default of not having the trolley device beside it.

Strike allowed Dom to assist him on the slightly slippery floor from the bench seat to the trolley - it was only a couple of hops, and he seated himself on the trolley.  
Hettie had moved closer to Robin, and although the atmosphere between the pair was still tense, the younger female appeared to have adopted a more professional manner.  
“I’m going to be here to give you a bit of support, it’s a weird sensation and quite slippery. Is it alright if I hold your elbows?”  
Robin accepted the other woman’s advice and realised it was pretty essential as she plunged one foot and calf into the warm mud bath. 

It was an incredibly odd feeling, but not at all unpleasant.   
The mud sucked her leg and foot down, and at the bottom caused her to jolt slightly with the incredible slipperiness, and she was thankful of Hettie’s reassuring strength around her as she added her second foot.  
Strike and Dom were softly talking, and presumably discussing tactics on how to attempt his entry into the vat.  
“Is it OK?” he asked, grinning across as Robin bent her knees and started to lower her bottom into the mud, her face displaying an alarmed expression and her mouth a tightly pouting ‘OOooooo’ shape.

Strike had to bite his lip to prevent himself laughing - she looked so focused in concentration at getting into a bath, it was pretty funny!

“Don’t make me laugh…..I’ll fall. Mud’s bloody slippy!” she managed to make her hands reach the sides of the tub.

Dom gave an amused grin at the pair, “We’ll leave you to it, but if you need anything we’re only nextdoor. Try and get settled and relax, about 45 minutes is ideal.”  
Strike smirked his eyebrow as he reached up for the orange plastic triangular handle and gave a guttural grunt as he pulled himself up and across, his partial limb making contact with the mud before he gave a rasping “OK” and Dom began to lower the chain cable on the handle to submerge him in the mud before making his way towards the small door.

Robin had made the mistake of glancing across at the noise Cormoran made; the sight of his muscular shoulders rippling as he hovered above the mud combined with his throaty, bear-like growl was a nudge to her balance too far and she lost her footing, sliding arse first into the warm bath of mud with a resounding splat, the ferocity causing several streaks to streak across her face and hair.

“Well, I certainly didn’t think mine would only be the second most awkward entry into a bath full of mud today!” Strike sniggered; making an almost Spitting Image style face as the hot mud seeped slowly to encase all of his body and make its way into places that he hadn’t expected warm mud ever to!

Robin considered whether it was possible to wipe the mud from her face, but given that her hands were also flecked with the stuff she gave up.  
Hettie gave a slightly smug smirk of her lips, “Don’t worry, the mud is safe to use on the face….very good for rejuvenating the skin actually,” and with a flash of her youthful, wrinkle free eyes she left via the same door Dom had exited by.

Strike gave a chuckle, “If you weren’t chin deep in mud right now how much would you like to punch her?”

Robin flashed him a pouting expression of fake calm, “I’m choosing to believe the comment was aimed at you!”

“Ouch! Wow, Ellacott….the clothes come off and the claws come out!” he feigned outrage at her comment, but she could see the amusement behind his eyes.  
Robin’s eyes landed, quite without any attempt to resist, on his darkly furred chest as he eased himself back into the warm mud and made a serious of throaty and unintentionally erotic noises as he settled back, arms clasped wide around the sides of the tub.

“Is it just me, or does having warm mud oozing between your bum feel really oddly pleasant,” Robin stated as she wriggled herself back in her own bath and found she was able to duck her shoulders completely below the level, leaving only her head poking out above.  
Strike smiled languidly and glanced across, sniggering at the sight of Robin’s head sticking out from the sea of khaki sludge.

“You like you’ve been buried in some kind of Japanese prisoner of war torture,” he laughed, giving a further snort as she wrinkled her nose in a mock snub.

“I’m getting the most out of this…..there’s no way I will ever have £280 available for this in the near future!” she stated.

“£280!” shrieked Strike, regarding his mud covered body, with part of his chest and shoulders sticking out of the gloop, “How the hell are we paying for it then? We took this on as a good will, charity case!”

Robin smiled softly, inhaling the menthol aroma and realising that the warmth was permeating through to her bones in a pleasing manner, “Dom told Ellie he’d sort it out if she came to us and asked for help...I think he fancies her actually…..so the bill is going to show as paid….I didn’t ask how he was arranging that though!”  
Strike gave a minimal nod and grunt of satisfaction before squirming slightly further back, but realised that his shoulders would not fit inside the sides of the bath tub in the manner Robin’s slender ones did.  
He managed to bend his full knee and get his right arm into the mud.

Robin noticed the sounds and movement beside her and raised her face fractionally, “You’re supposed to be relaxing and still!” she admonished.

Strike tutted and grimaced at her, “Funnily enough if I’d lost both legs I think I’d be able to get comfier,” and he wriggled around so that his left shoulder was mud covered. “I’m gonna slather the bits that stick out so that I’m covered and getting the full body benefit, and then I’ll be still….far be it from me to disturb your zen moment!”

Robin bit her lip at the thought of slathering mud across any sticking up bits of Cormoran and instead helpfully suggested, “Try lying back and scooping some up and over your chest.”  
He settled back and did as she suggested, finding the experience of the warm mud incredibly pleasurable as it encased him fully in heat and a slight heaviness.  
He allowed his eyelids to drift closed as he breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, again considering that if this was available to him on a daily basis, maybe he wouldn’t feel the need to smoke.

Beside him Robin’s thoughts were drifting towards dangerous territory.   
Being covered head to toe in slippery, warm mud, with an equally hot, slathered Cormoran beside her was nudging her body into all manner of potential thoughts and possibilities, and several small whimpers left her mouth which she was pretty sure she managed to disguise as coughs.

The small whimpering moans Robin had begun to utter next to him was having a predictable impact upon Strike’s groin, and he was grateful for the presence of the thick mud to act as a barrier to the almost unavoidable stiffening beneath his shorts.  
He couldn’t disagree that the heat provided by the mud was incredibly pleasurable, and he stifled the thought of what Robin’s smooth body would feel like if he were able to run his hands across it with the silty clay forming a delectable lubricant to their exploration.  
Fuck it, he wasn’t stifling ANY thoughts….he was allowing them to romp and run wild in his fertile imagination….and if she kept on huffing out those little moans he’d have more than mud to contend with!

With a twitch of his neck and a deep, throaty cough he shook away the thoughts and instead made his mind run through the finer points of the case so far - he was honestly interested in what had prompted Graham Watson to contact him.

Robin was dragged back from her pleasurable and decidedly X rated thoughts by her work colleague’s loud throat clearing….although it had the effect of momentarily making her picture him bearing down above her and making that same noise as a groan….but she physically shook her head to remove the last vestiges of uncontrolled lust….she really needed to stop thinking about him in this way.

He was her work partner; that was all.

She was nothing like the kind of woman he went for….although come to think of it he hadn’t had a steady relationship (which for Cormoran was more than a one nighter!) in quite a while.

Both drifted, lost in thought for a while until Robin voiced her thoughts,  
“What’s your idea of a perfect date?”

Her voice sounded loud in the room, which both recognised had become darker in a pleasingly unobvious manner.  
Strike’s interest piqued, what had brought this on?  
Nevertheless he felt relaxed enough to engage in conversation with Robin, “When you say perfect date do you mean the actual date themselves, or the activities making up the date?”

Robin considered his response; thorough as always - she also mentally kicked herself for considering how well that boded for the bedroom!  
“Both I suppose….we’ve got about half an hour to kill!”

Strike nodded, “Well actual physical wise….I don’t think I have a concept of perfect...I don’t generally go for looks....” he was interrupted by Robin popping up from the murky depths and casting him an aghast expression.  
“So why are all your girlfriends stunningly attractive, super model types?” she asked, gasping and trying to get herself more upright despite her hands sliding against the bath tub edge.

Cormoran tried not to focus on the mud attached to the generous curve of her breasts, “They’ve happened to be good looking….but that wasn’t the reason why I went out with them. I like confidence….that’s the sexy quality I go for…..but mainly I like someone who I feel comfortable with; someone who doesn’t need ME to feel validated...and Ciara Porter, who is the ONLY super model I have ever dated by the way, she definitely fits that criteria!”

Robin weighed his comments up as she slithered herself around so that she was now facing Strike in his muddy luxuriation.  
“Ok, so that’s the first part covered….what would the actual date be like?” she pressed, wrinkling her nose at the state of her hands and experimenting with clasping them together and pulling them apart to make tiny, gloopy peaks appear….like the world’s nastiest meringue!

Strike watched her absently, “Nothing too fancy…..I don’t mind getting dressed up a bit, but I don’t like fake interactions, and posh restaurants always bring that out in people….sooooo, I don’t know...somewhere that has fairly decent food, not too posh, then a drink after somewhere we can talk and then…..well….whatever happens then!”

Strike was struck with the thoughts that what he’d actually wanted to blurt out was that his perfect date was a night having some food in China Town followed by a couple of drinks in the Tottenham….ie what he and Robin did most Friday nights!

Robin was hoping that the flush to her cheek whilst thinking about what exactly could be the ‘whatever happens’ part of the Cormoran Strike Date Night Experience could be covered by assuming it was the warmth of the mud bath.

“What about you, Ellacott? What’s on your ideal of a dream man and a dream date?” he asked, rippling his shoulders backwards and spreading one smeary palm along the increasingly grimy sides of his bath tub.  
She twinkled her eyes towards him, “Well, not a rugby playing twat I went to school with!”

“Obviously!” Strike’s voice had gone dangerously husky, “So….clean cut, tall, handsome are all out then? What’s in?”

“I’m sort of like you I suppose - I like personality better than looks. The dates I’ve been on since Matthew have all been with people Ilsa or Vanessa think would suit me...but, they were all a bit boring. I mean, nice enough and polite and….”

“What? All their own teeth?” Strike interrupted chuckling.   
He’d seen most of the guys Robin had been on dates with and he tended to agree with her opinion of them - all very pleasant, but a bit dull and ‘vanilla.’

Robin laughed back at him, her face relaxing more as she continued, “Exactly! Just….I don’t know….they were all people that I felt like I had to be on my best behaviour with. A bit like what you said about the restaurant….I prefer being able to be myself, and if someone doesn’t want me with my dodgy taste in music and films and penchant for salt and vinegar crisps then sod ‘em!”

“So presumably you’d want someone to take you to the cinema to watch a rerun of Forrest Gump accompanied by an everlasting supply of Kettle Chips,” he suggested, shrugging and realising that the mud across his upper shoulders had dried a little and cracked pleasurably as he moved.  
“Something like that,” Robin sighed, although it was taking all her will power not to admit that her perfect man was facing her, covered in mud; and her perfect date was a Friday night shared pizza followed by a couple of drinks in the Tottenham with same said mud covered male.

Cormoran was feeling wistful - or as wistful as was possible given that he was squirming about in mud - and sighed, flashing a softly crinkle-eyed look towards Robin, who he realised was not avoiding his gaze or dragging hers away.  
It would be so easy to ask her for that perfect date.......surely she was not looking away on purpose?

The potential to open the moment up to other possibilities was removed by the creaking of the door and the reappearance of Hettie and Dom.


	12. Goose pimples....everywhere!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter - sorry!  
> I also apologise for the length between posting - I sort of had to rewrite this as I was basing it on my own experience of one of these things, but actually hosing each other down just wasn't working....so I had them change their minds......which made for much nicer opportunities as they were very close and wet!
> 
> Some of the stuff near the end started to flow as the radio was playing Always by Bon Jovi....not a particular fave, but it was a bit atmospheric and helped me to get well onto the next bit too!

“Bloody hell! Was that 45 minutes already?” Strike asked.  
“A bit longer actually,” Dom stated. “Right, so this is where you really have to fight the desire to be disgusted with how dirty you think you are….the mud is actually very clean. So when you get out try not to wipe it all off. Just step onto the towel Robin to get your feet as clear as you can to stop you slipping.”

Hettie had placed a towel down beside her tub, “I’ll have to give you a bit of support; the mud acts a bit like a vacuum,” she stated briskly and positioned herself behind Robin as she hitched up her knees, placed her feet onto the base of the tub and started to stand up.  
Hettie was correct; the mud seemed to suck her body back down but with a rather revoltingly bowel based noise she managed to stand up. 

“That noise did not come from my bottom!” she giggled, pointing a very muddy index finger towards Strike who was still reclining, but raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.  
“Hey! I’m not completely convinced I’ll be able to make the same claim….this thing was seriously relaxing!” he chuckled as Robin was helped onto the towel and used it like a door mat to remove the oozy mud from her feet.

Dom gave him a withering smirk, “Hey, you have no idea how much you’re gonna have to use your arms mate! Serious core strength for a couple of minutes, OK?”  
Strike nodded, his masculine pride would not fail him in his inability to get out of a fucking bath!

Dom had moved the orange handle across and down a fraction so that Strike could reach it, but had covered it with a towel.  
Dom instructed him to place his grip with one knuckle each way on the handle, and to twist it lengthways. Strike was perfectly willing to use the younger man’s suggestions - he’d done this before afterall!  
Giving a mammoth heave on his upper arms, combined with Dom raising the chain on the handle, Strike’s body, covered with the thick, greeny mud rose up and he managed to get himself onto the seat of the trolley device with a minimal amount of manual coaxing from Dom.  
“Right….wheel me up Scotty!” he announced, grinning as dollops of mud splattered to the floor all around him and followed Robin as she advanced towards the showering area.

“OK, are you going first Robin?” Dom asked, moving Strike’s trolley across to where he had left the hose attachment.  
“Won’t his mud harden up while he’s sluicing me down?” Robin shouted towards the pair.  
Hettie was in the messy process of removing the large drain holes from the bases of their bath tubs, allowing the gloopy contents to spill out onto the tiled floor, where the slope directed the sludge towards a slatted drainage hole. She was utilising a second hose and attachment to slough the remnants from the tub sides and ensure that the floor was pristine….but judging by the streaking of greeny brown mud trickling across the floor Robin considered that hosing her and Strike down might take a significant amount of time!

Dom regarded her and shrugged, “It will a bit, but he’ll need to scrub anyway….body hair tends to hold onto the stuff....sorry mate!  
He stopped short of slapping Cormoran on the shoulder due to his muddy coating, but received a resigned shrug from him.

“Could you not do the spraying bit and we could both get rid of this stuff quicker?” Robin suggested, glancing at her decidedly uncomfortable looking partner as he tried to manipulate his shoulder, but felt the mud tightening where it had already air dried as they lounged and chatted.  
“Yeah, good idea. That OK? I know part of the so called enjoyment is in spraying each other with what I assume is pretty cold water, but I honestly feel a little bit odd doing that to someone I have a professional relationship with,” he added the second part of the comment in a quieter volume, although Robin registered his comment and felt a small pang of gratitude for his phrasing.

Dom called Hettie over and explained the slight change of plan and helped Strike manoeuvre himself down towards Robin at the narrower end of the tiled area, dripping mud as he went.  
“Right, Ellacott….you ready?” he announced, pressing his foot against the tiled floor and regarding their slime covered bodies with overdone disgust.

Dom moved back to the hoses, he was able to move around easily on his blade, and for the second time Strike considered how much more mobile he could be if he went for a similar model himself. The cost was the main issue preventing him taking the plunge, but he knew that if he so much as mentioned it to Robin she’d tell him to use the business profits on it...which he’d feel terrible about.  
Robin glanced across at him, she had placed herself close to the tiled back wall, her legs hip width apart and her hands braced on her hips.   
“I’m a bit scared!” she stated, giggling.

Cormoran gave a throaty snort, “YOU? Scared of a hose pipe?! Jesus woman, you’ve been stabbed, almost shot and beaten up more times than I care to think about in the line of doing your job….I think you’ll cope with a bit of water!”  
His eyes had done that crinkled thing.  
And the mud was starting to feel rather warm again in certain areas of her body...and that locked gaze thing was happening again like it had in the baths.  
Shit!  
If she wasn’t covered almost head to toe in mud she might be tempted to lean forward and kiss him…..so it was a bloody good job she was really!

“Alright…...go for it!” she shouted and squealed and as Dom angled the powerful jet of water towards her and she felt the full pressure of it….plus the temperature.  
“Buggering hell! That’s chuffing freezing!” she shrieked as the water pummelled her legs and tummy. 

Strike had taken a teeth clasped intake of breath as the water from Hettie’s angled spray met his abdomen.  
“Fucking Hell! It’s giving me flashbacks to my army training!” he shouted, clenching his hands into fists and twisting his neck so as not to earn a face full of the water.  
Dom was right in that the actual pressure by the time it hit them wasn’t as extreme as it appeared when leaving the hose attachment, but the stream was remorseless, and having no actual control left them slightly helpless.

Robin’s hands kept waving in front of her as she twisted her neck away from the deluge, but she could feel and see the stuff starting to trickle from her, despite taking in mouthfuls of the spray which she was spitting out as she shook and danced on tiptoes.  
“This is hell!” she shouted, and broke into giggles as she met Cormoran’s drenched face as he blew drips of water from his eyelashes, nose and hair.

“Do people seriously pay for this?” he added, reaching out instinctively as Robin stumbled a little and lost her footing.  
His hand had grasped what he’d assumed would be her forearm, but due to her frenetic hopping around he actually made contact with the curve of her waist.  
She felt the warmth of his palm, a direct and completely delicious contrast to the coolness of the water, and she was partially ashamed to admit, she faked a further slip in order to encourage him to maintain his grip on her….which he did! (She would wrestle with her conscience later!.....she knew she was a bad feminist!)

“You OK?” he asked, spitting more water from his mouth towards the floor without wrenching his gaze from hers.  
Cormoran was enjoying the satisfaction of seeing more and more of Robin’s creamy skin revealed to him as the mud was hosed away.   
Her reaction and shrieks as the cool water had cut through the layer and reached her skin had resulted in some frankly glorious leaping about - his most animalistic urges were obviously thrilled by this, although he told himself - repeatedly - that it was just out of concern for her losing her footing that he’d remained focused on her beside him….(yeah...he knew he was the worst, perviest fucker imaginable!....he’d give himself a stern talking to later….when she wasn’t almost naked and wet and within arms’ reach!)

After a few moments Strike realised that his hand had remained splayed around her waist, and rather than move away from him she had actually fallen slightly against his now slime-free torso and shoulders.  
“Stay there, I need to turn round and get my back done,” she instructed.

He felt the additional shudder from her body as she twisted and his hand slid across her soft, but flat tummy, skittering over her belly button and his thumb tantalisingly close to the underside of her breasts, which at his new proximity left no doubt of the temperature of the water….although curiously he was now feeling rather warm….in all the right places.  
‘Fuck….don’t get a bleedin’ stiffie now……..think of anything else other than Robin’s nipples, or her tummy,’ he mentally ran through all manner of mental images to try and ease the sensation in his shorts - thank Christ he was sitting down!

The feeling of the water torrent rippling across her backside was novel but definitely not unpleasant, however Robin was more aware of the fact that Strike’s hand had just slid across her belly, and if she hadn’t inhaled so deeply with the mixture of delectable feelings his thumb would have definitely made contact with her boobs!

And the hand was still there, now clasping at her hips as her buttocks wobbled with the onslaught of water.

Strike glanced downwards and finally managed to create an image that dulled his ardour.  
Giving her hip a slight squeeze she saw his amused expression and looked down to the floor where he was indicating.  
“You look like you’re having a really nasty bout of diarrhea!” he shouted, watching as the remnants of mud trickled down her thighs and across the tiled floor.

She grinned back at him, thankful that the water was no longer pounding the breath from her lungs, “Well you’re sitting down….it’s gonna look even worse for you!”

“Actually, that’s a point! How the hell are they gonna get my arse clean if I’m sitting down?” to Robin’s slight chagrin he removed his steadying hand from her hip and waved towards Dom who flicked off the torrent.  
“You both OK?” he shouted down to them.  
Robin cautiously shuffled around, reaching out to grab onto Cormoran’s metal chair,taking the opportunity to memorise the pattern of freckles decorating his upper shoulders and biceps.

“How does my bum get clean?” he asked.

Dom nodded and started to make his way towards them, reducing the volume of his voice as he got closer.  
“Yeah, no worries, I’ll help you stand up and then hitch around and can you kneel and grab onto the back of the chair?  
Strike grunted and nodded in affirmation and Robin was called into use to hold the chair steady as Dom facilitated Strike hefting himself around before he was kneeling and facing the back wall, coincidentally incredibly close to Robin as she held onto the back of the chair.

“This isn’t humiliating at all!” he snarled, although she saw a flicker of resigned amusement behind his eyes.

“Just think of it as practise for when you’re an old man…..in a care home…..making everyone’s life a misery and somehow managing to sweet talk whatever you want out of the nursing staff by twinkling those green eyes at them!” Robin stated, inhaling sharply as she realised that maybe she’d let her tongue run away with her.  
Don’t have thoughts about those green eyes…..that are literally boring into me like lasers. Bad Robin!

From his position he tore his gaze away from her blue-grey eyes and pink cheeks so as not to completely lose control and fall into them in what would inevitably be a mistake - especially given that he was partially clad and only semi clean of mud!  
All he could see however was the fact that her creamy skin was covered in tiny goose pimples; across her arms, shoulders, that delectable, curving chasm between her breasts, her softly quivering stomach….fucking everywhere!   
And he wanted to coax each one back to smoothness by licking his warm tongue over every inch of skin.

Thankfully Dom had got back to the hose and after a quick shout of ‘Ready?’ started up with the cold torrent once more, which managed to remove any traces of sexual inappropriateness as the water caught a couple of masculine body parts and he was forced to wince as a stream of expletives issued from his mouth, causing Robin to glance down as he hissed, “Don’t say a word!” and resulting in her quivering with deep belly laughs.

If the water hadn’t been focusing on such a delicate part of his anatomy he would probably have exploded with the sight of Robin’s barely constrained breasts moving to their own unique rhythm directly in his eyeline…..but the moment was rendered more hilarious than sexual….and Strike delighted in the thought that actually, in many ways, that was all the more pleasurable!

Dom and Hettie finally turned off the jets of water. Robin held the chair firmly once more as Strike slumped around and perched his tinglingly clean arse on the seat. Both wiped stray drips of water from their faces with the backs of their wrists, they were grinning broadly. 

“Well! That was bloody refreshing!” she stated, her rosy cheeks and shining eyes making her look all the more naturally beautiful in Strike’s eyes. 

“Is that the polite way of saying it was fucking freezing?” he grinned, nodding his face towards her shivering shoulders, allowing him the opportunity to take in her full body clad in that poison green (it would have to be that particular shade!) bikini.

Dom came across, and Hettie came forwards with warmed towels, causing both of the pair to make shared exclamations of ‘Oooooooo-ness’ as they wrapped them around their shoulders. Dom released the base of the chair and wheeled Strike towards the teak bench, supporting him briefly to enable him to slide up and across safely.

He began to dry his shoulders and chest with the towel and draped a second around his partial limb in order to facilitate making it as dry as possible before reattaching his leg.  
Robin ran the warm towel across her arms and legs, using the other side of the bench to facilitate reaching her feet and ankles easily, and inadvertantly creating a ridiculously erotic image as she bent and stroked her slender limbs.  
Strike resorted to covering his head with his towel and rubbing vigorously.

He resurfaced once he had heard the soft swish of fabric; Robin had covered herself with her robe and was tucked onto the bench drying her toes.  
He continued rubbing the towel across himself as more liquid leached out of his skin and settled on the dark hair covering most of it.

“I suppose we should really consider getting our shit together and getting out of here,” she mused, removing the clip from her hair and rubbing the underside of her neck as she shook out the slightly damp tresses.  
He grunted in response, “It looks like we’ve got everything we can….maybe even more…..and is Friday….which means traditionally a drink or two at the pub….can’t do that if one of us is driving!” 

Robin sniggered slightly, “You seriously want to go out to the pub when we get back to London? Aren’t you sick of the sight of me?”  
He met her gaze levelly and simply stated, “Nope,” before starting the focused process of thoroughly drying, powdering and reattaching his leg - although he didn’t bother too much considering that he’d shower and have to remove it to remove his wet shorts in his room.

“If we leave now we’ll hit hideous Friday traffic...you realise that?” she added.  
He sighed and sniffed deeply , “True! And I suppose they can’t exactly rebook our rooms now….too late, surely?”

Robin’s lips rose in a slight smirk, “Are you saying you would choose to have an additional night eating vegan food - and bear in mind we have very little booze left for tonight!”

His face contorted into horror, “Bloody hell, I’d forgotten about that!” he levered himself upright and tugged his own towelling robe around himself before continuing, “OK, what about we check out and head back to London but we stop off for decent pub food and a drink enroute, I can have one pint, and then I can drop you at yours before I finish off the rest of my whisky?”  
“Sounds like a plan,” Robin sparkled, although she was realising that the comfortable intimacy that had developed over the past couple of days would be lost once they checked out.

Strike replied with a rather husky, “Right,” and seemed to focus on the fastening of his robe as Dom reappeared.

“You two going to be here later on?” he asked, and was briefly updated by Strike on their plans before offering his outstretched hand towards first Cormoran and then Robin.  
“Can’t thank you enough…..there are some things in life that I have to accept I can’t get involved in trying to sort out ‘cos of this,” he indicated his blade, “But I want to help get this sorted out…..this place used to be such a great place to work at….now this is just there all the time in the back of my mind. It stinks….you will get them won’t you?”

Strike nodded softly, “I hope so. We’ll put together as good a case as we can before we hand it over to the police,” he noticed Dom’s expression of shock.  
Robin continued, “This is above our limitations, and it seems very likely that convictions should ensue, so trust us…..we’ve got a few contacts and if we do our bit hopefully the CPS will just wave it through after a minimum amount of police involvement.”  
He nodded and appeared relieved as he once again wished them well and promised to remain in touch through email and phone calls to provide and pass on anything he learned.

They were silent as they returned to their rooms.   
It wasn’t quite one of their comfortable silences though - there was an unspoken undercurrent of ‘something’ bubbling away just under the surface.


	13. Back to normality?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the spa comes to an end and our pair have a whole set of new mental images and emotions to contend with as they make their way back to the 'normality' of London.....but will either of them admit to the feelings that have been ramped up by about 10 fold!?

At their respective doorways each turned to the other.  
“I’m gonna shower and stuff…..about an hour?” he asked.  
Robin nodded, “Yeah, I’ll meet you at the car….you’ll actually be able to have a proper cigarette!”  
He gave a throaty growl, “That is very true! See you in a bit, Ellacott,” and he disappeared behind his room door.

On the other side of the wall he breathed deeply.

Shit!

This had been….what was the correct word?   
Perfect? - No, because perfect would have been melting into her body and kissing the fuck out of her.

Glorious? Sublime? Magnificent? - no, all of those implied something that would have been insurmountable, and he wanted so much more between them than longing and barely controlled glances.

He was still considering the exact choice of language as he disrobed and began showering, the odd smear of the mud dislodged as he was able to slough his hands and shower product across himself under hot water.

In the adjacent bathroom Robin was taking advantage of her own bath to get rid of the last vestiges of the mud which lingered beneath her bikini bottoms and the band of her top.   
As she lay back she realised she felt a little tearful…..this had been so good and now it was ending!

She’d never had any relationship as good as the one she now had with Cormoran - not even with her female friends or family!  
They were good together!   
The recent couple of days being actual, irrefutable proof of that!

Would it be such a ridiculous leap to take all those times she wanted to touch and kiss him and make them literal times she COULD touch and kiss him?  
But the inevitable ‘What if’ questions started to pop up into her thinking brain.

Having dried off and restyled her hair she packed up her small suitcase with more venom that was strictly necessary and gave the room a last scan before making her way down to the reception desk to check out.  
She knew that Strike had already vacated his room - she’d heard the opening and closing of his door about 10 minutes earlier - no doubt he’d be taking up her suggestion of a nicotine fix!  
She smiled as she clicked the door closed, secretly glad that he’d soon smell completely Cormoran-like once more.

When she hove into view, golden blond hair glinting in the late spring sunshine, he caught his breath, and not merely because of the shock of inhaling actual cigarette smoke for the first time in a couple of days respite.

He’d considered sticking to the vape thing, at least until they got back to London; but he recalled her mentioning that she liked him smelling of tobacco and had lit up allowing the first drag to hit his lungs like an unfamiliar burst of warming fug.

“Boot’s open,” he remarked and finished his cigarette as she stashed her case and jacket.

“Want me to do the first bit?” she asked holding out her palm for the keys which he plonked down with a smirk.

“Excellent…..that means I can build up my blood to toffee ratio in earnest!” he twinkled, making his way around to the passenger door, swinging himself into the seat and easing it back to give himself legroom.  
Robin did the reverse in the driver’s seat, clicking on her seatbelt as Strike rummaged around in the glove box and grunted happily on the discovery of a bag of his favourite chewy toffees.

“I’m guessing your experience of veganism is thoroughly at an end,” she giggled, but nodded as he waggled one in her direction as he chomped down, slapping his lips around the sweet, chewy delight.  
“I’ll be honest, I did enjoy the food here, and I certainly don’t feel like it was a chore….I just don’t think I could cook like that at home…..and these…..are just a creamy taste sensation! Open up!”  
He popped one of the unwrapped toffees into her mouth as she indicated and paused before turning out of the hotel drive and into the flow of traffic.

As predicted, given the fact that it was a Friday, and the time they were attempting to travel at, their progress was relatively slow. However, they discussed everything they could about the case, Strike flipping through some of the notes he’d made on his regulation SIB pad, and considered what they could do to organise a dossier to hand over to Wardle as they were now both convinced that enough people would come forwards to get this thing ended.

At around 6.30pm, having been stuck in a virtually non-moving stream of traffic, Robin suggested Strike have a look on his phone for eating places nearby.   
Having located a couple of likely possibilities on what appeared to be some sort of retail park he directed Robin.   
They settled on a generic, but half decent steak place, accessing a snug table for two amidst the already filling up restaurant.

Robin could have predicted Strike’s menu choice of rare steak and chips with a rich bone marrow sauce, and he in turn knew that she’d opt for the salmon and order chips to go with it, even though she’d only eat about 5 of them, allowing him the joy of finishing them off!  
They ordered a pint of decent beer and a glass of white wine and gave their usual Friday night toast of, “Here’s to another week of not needing hospitalisation!” which had started following a run of about 5 weeks when one, or the other...or on one week both of them, had injured themselves.  
They grinned and sipped waiting for their food.

Robin was dimly aware that her knees were quite close to Cormoran’s under the table.   
Given the amount of his body she had seen in such close proximity over the past couple of days it shouldn’t cause such a thrill in her stomach.   
So why did it?

“Robin? What do you think?”  
His voice dragged her back from working her way through the pleasant series of mental images she had accrued - most of which involved various parts of Cormoran’s darkly furred body slathered in oil!

“What? Sorry…...erm…..thinking about the case,” she lied, and blushed at her partners quick flash of raised brows.  
“I was asking about the case! Do you think honestly there’ll be enough to pass onto Wardle?” he asked again, passing a gruff ‘Cheers’ to the waiter who presented their plates of steaming food before them.  
Robin requested some mayonnaise, Strike ketchup before she answered him.

“I hope so. I hope that Cherry and Carmen will stay strong and maybe Magda and Connie will help….strength in numbers!” She gave a satisfied groan as she tasted a mouthful of salmon.

Strike sliced through his steak and growled throatily at the sight of oozing blood.   
He shovelled a mammoth piece, dunked liberally in the rich sauce, into his mouth and made almost orgasmic noises as the flavours coated his tastebuds. A couple of chips followed and he made a face of pure joy.

“I ‘ope so,” he grunted. “What you got planned for the weekend then?”

Robin shrugged and continued eating her salmon.  
“Usual catch up on life crap - laundry, shopping, started that box set French crime thing you suggested….might back to back a few more episodes.”

He hastily tried to empty his mouth, “What series of it have you got up to?”

“Erm….season 5, just watcheded the first episode,” she stated.

“Double murder!” he pointed with his fork, “I’m on episode 5 of that one….I’ll leave off watching more til you catch up.”

Robin gave a genuine smile, “That’d be nice…..we could text as we’re watching.”

Strike paused in order to swallow a hefty slug of his beer, attract the attention of a waiter and order a refill on her wine and a large Coke for himself.  
He managed to stop short of telling her that an even better idea would be for her to curl up on his lap in his attic so that they could watch it together, pausing the screen from time to time so that he could investigate her lips and tongue with his usual level of thoroughness.

As predicted, half way through the metal ‘tin’ of chips she puffed out her cheeks and told him he could finish them if he wanted….which of course he did!

By default of eating significantly less than him they finished their meals at roughly the same time.   
Robin was feeling the effects of the second glass of wine which had gone down rather easily.  
A glance at his watch, and a glance at Robin’s profile as she almost drained that second wine; if he had been a further pint on this would be what he always thought of as ‘the danger zone’ on a Friday in the Tottenham. 

1 wine Robin was chatty and smiley.  
2 wine Robin was twinkly, and alluring, and pouty and sometimes a bit touchy - not touchy as in moody, but as in touchy feely.  
3 wine Robin was often silly, and sweet, and vulnerable and usually only appeared when he himself was at 5 pint Cormoran stage.   
Being sober meant that he was in the unusual position of being able to observe Robin as she slid into her more relaxed state….although it merely reminded him of her demeanour during the various treatments they had shared at the spa.

“D’you want a pudding or get back on the road?” he asked, his eyes twinkling as his fingers stretched out towards the small dessert menus.  
Robin wrinkled her nose, yep, definitely 2 drink Robin appearing, “I want something totally un vegan and full of chocolate….and another drink….and a wee!”

“Ok, I am all over the first two, shall I pick for you?” and on receiving a smiling nod studied the choices as she located and walked towards the loos.

On her return there was a further glass of wine waiting for her, along with a small glass of coke to go with his refilled large glass.  
“What are you doing over the weekend then? Is it this one that you’re doing that thing for Shanker?” she asked, meeting his questioning eyebrows with a tongue poke and a snort of laughter.

“How did you know about that? He just needs my lurking bulk…..and no, it’s next Saturday….and it’ll get us back in his good books after that last time!” he gave her a specific, pointed glare.

“That was NOT my fault, I keep telling you! The bloody autocorrect put in the wrong word…..I can’t help that he was driving around Hampstead instead of Halstead…..and it certainly wasn't my fault that he got propositioned by that muscly fella!”  
They both sniggered at the recollection of the golden toothed scoundrel’s livid appearance in their offices the following day!

The waiter appeared with a wedge of hot chocolate fudge cake, accompanied by both cream and ice cream and an equally gooey looking wedge of Caramel Apple Betty with an additional jug of custard.  
“Good choice, Partner!” Robin grinned, making contented noises which merged into drooling pants as her wine soaked brain didn’t register the heat of the sponge and ganache she’d shovelled inside.  
Opposite her Cormoran grinned and scooped some of her ice cream onto his spoon, waving it close to her mouth, “Here, cool it down!” before feeding her the mouthful, resulting in more, but differently toned groans.

His eyes had done that crinkled at the edges thing….at least she thought they had…..he was looking slightly blurry…..and way too sexy as he blew on each spoonful of his dessert before demolishing it….and the sensation of hot, silky chocolate on her tongue was certainly not helping.

They finished their desserts; or rather Robin ate half of hers plus all her ice cream and Cormoran polished off the rest; and both finished their drinks.  
Each of them required use of the toilets, Cormoran finishing first and settling the bill as Robin rejoined him.

“Keys?” he held out his palm as Robin winced and rummaged around in her bag fruitlessly.  
Her wine soused brain wouldn’t drag up the relevant detail of what she'd done with them, so she silenced Strike’s ‘about to say something’ mouth with an aloft finger and promptly jumped several times, cricking her head and listening for the rattle of the keys.  
Satisfied, she delved into her hoodie pocket and wiggled the key from it’s leather fob in front of his adoring gaze.

“Get in the car, Ellacott,” he grinned, swearing loudly as he bent himself double in the driver’s seat before activating the ignition to change the setting to one which enabled him to stretch his leg out and reach the pedal with more comfort.  
Robin on the other hand was able to stretch out in luxury as the passenger seat was still set to accommodate Cormoran’s lofty proportions. 

“Home James,” she stated, clicking in her seatbelt and wriggling back comfortably as Strike swung the BMW around on the car park and indicated to join the traffic, which had cleared fractionally from the nose to tail rush hour crush.


	14. Confidence....it's sexy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those of you hoping for masses of smut and a ratings change - sorry, but this was never gonna be a smut piece - just loads of pining, longing and an eventual nice gooey ending!  
> This is the end of it - thank you to anyone who has stuck with me as I indulged myself in complete 'madness avoiding' fictional fun.  
> Yes, I KNOW none of this is realistic......I don't care!

Just over an hour and thirty minutes later; having stopped only for a brief ‘splash and dash’ at a service station; Strike drew up as close to Robin’s flat as was possible.

She’d been napping for about 45 minutes, issuing soft little whimpers and the odd random phrase - ‘red ones please’, ‘so furry’ and most interestingly ‘a bit lower….niiice’, which had made him twist his neck and watch her with rather more focus as he waited for the traffic lights to change, almost missing his turn and earning a swift ‘pip’ of the horn from the vehicle behind, and a husky “Yeah, yeah” from Strike as he shook his thoughts back to navigating central London traffic.

The sound of a car door closing, plus the boot hatch opening woke her and she dimly blinked into the dark cabin smelling the background aroma of Cormoran, mint chewing gum and tobacco - he’d clearly taken advantage of her slumbering state to have a sneaky one out of the window.  
She vacated the vehicle and met him as he pulled up the handle on her case and slammed the boot closed.

“Right then. Good work as always Ellacott….see you Monday?”   
The final word implied a question, even though they had already discussed their relatively empty weekend plans.

“Yeah, Monday…..you’ll let me know though if any of the people from the spa get in touch?” her eyes looked twinkling; slightly fuzzy, which could be the after effects of 3 glasses of wine, or from the fact that she’d slept; either way it was all he could do not to reach out and tug her face towards his and kiss the living shit out of her.

He always found it more difficult to make his body remain in control when it was dark - somehow Robin’s amber gold hair took on an additional element of shimmer.  
His voice, when it came out, was deep and huskily sexy, “Course I will,” and it was all Robin could do to focus on clasping the handle of her wheeled suitcase rather than reach up and insert one of her fingers between his off centred, curled lips.

She made a couple of paces towards the outer door of her flat before turning and casting a further gaze at him, as he opened the driver’s side door and flashed a raised index finger ‘wave’ at her smiling face.  
“See ya,” she offered, returning a soft, curled palm wave at him before heading towards the building, inserting her key and making her way up the stairs to her small, ‘compact and bijoux’ little rented one bed flat.  
Strike settled himself behind the wheel and only set off once he saw the light flick on in what he knew to be her little kitchen and living room area. He then cleared his throat and set off to find a parking space near Denmark Street - no mean feat!

He spent the remainder of his evening sorting though his kit bag, organising laundry, binning anything suspect looking in his fridge and finally settling down to a couple of measures (alright, 6!) of what remained of his single malt whisky from the spa.  
His mind was flooded with a myriad of images - most of which he was slightly ashamed to admit involved Robin’s body; her make up free skin after that facial, the sight of the curve of her breast against the treatment table towels, that poison green bikini, her belly button, that tattoo….a bloody tattoo!...and her backside almost not encased in the pale blue lace of those knickers.  
His mind lingered on those knickers, and he grinned as he recalled several conversations he’d been party to involving Ilsa and Robin. 

They were what they would consider ‘third date knickers’! 

It did make him consider exactly why she’d worn them for work….but perhaps a spa counted as posh even if it was work related - and he’d made sure the underwear he’d packed had been from his ‘decent’ selection rather than the ‘final days before laundry day’ ones at the back of the drawer!  
He decided not to watch more of the French drama - he’d told Robin he’d let her catch up - so he settled instead for a programme counting down the nations favourite chocolate bars - although he argued vociferously with the TV when the winner was neither a Twix nor a Mars bar….although Dairy Milk was an acceptable compromise!

Saturday passed slowly for them both.

Strike received a phone call from Graham Watson; the lewd images in question were apparently connected to his relationship with a youth who he believed to be 16 at the time, but who subsequently turned out to be 15. The twist in the tale however was that the relationship had continued - Graham was eager to quash any consideration that it had resumed a sexual nature until the young man, called Aaron, had turned 16 some 6 months later.   
Graham and Aaron remained in a loving relationship, and despite feeling that they had to keep it under wraps both were now in a position to make it public - and damned the consequences!

Blimey!

With this in mind it meant that he was willing to expose Daria and her actions, although it had only, within the last week become known to him about the sexual extras being forced onto the therapists in his employ.  
Watson had agreed that he would support the investigators in their need to pass the case over to the police, and after a hasty call to Wardle had handed over relevant phone numbers, knowing that Robin wouldn’t mind him moving forwards with matters - her main concern, like his, being the welfare of the likes of Cherry and Carmen.

After a lie in, Robin carried out her traditional weekend jobs of cleaning, washing and ironing her clothes and visiting the supermarket to stock up. She also tackled unpacking her things from the spa and realised that she had somehow managed to end up with the massage oils and facial products that had been intended for Strike as well as her own.  
Smiling she dialed him:  
C : ‘ello! You OK?

R: Yeah, did you give me both sets of freebies on purpose?

C: Oh!....er….no, not intentionally. Why? Have you got my flapjack oil?

R: [giggling as she flipped the lid open and inhaled] I have indeed…..God it’s making me hungry!

C: Well, you can have the other stuff, but I did like the smell of that, and it was nice to have it warm on my leg.

R : OK, you can have that back….and there’s a post shave balm that smells a bit ‘boy smell’ in your facial stuff.

He briefly filled her in on the case update, and as predicted she was perfectly happy with him pressing forwards with things and handing it to Wardle, even going so far as to ask whether Wardle had got back to him with anything since.  
C : No, but I had a brief text from Dom. A load of police turned up about half an hour ago and are interviewing some of the management, and both Daria and Salina were handcuffed by all accounts!

R : Wow! Fast work….that’s good. I feel good about that.

C: Yeah…..  
His voice drifted out as he thought about his empty evening ahead.

R: What’s up? Surely you feel pleased?….I know you weren’t exactly thrilled about the whole spa thing….and I’m frankly amazed that you agreed to all the stuff I signed you up for….but it’s worth it when we get a result. I mean...I know it isn’t completely sorted yet….but it will be.

Cormoran had eased himself back into the large easy chair in his flat as Robin spoke.   
He enjoyed hearing her voice, and chatting to her -or even listening as she chatted - always made time fly by in a comfortable way.  
He realised she had paused as his thoughts had drifted,  
C : I know. I just enjoyed myself these past couple of days - felt like we had lots to do and to be completely honest I slept like a log after those massages. My leg stopped hurting for once.

R : [tutting softly] Has it started hurting again already?

Her thoughts were trawling back across their time and the many conversations they’d shared whilst in the spa.

‘I like confidence, that’s the sexy quality I go for.’ That’s what he’d said when they were talking about romantic partners in that mud bath.  
And his eyes really had lingered on hers - she hadn’t imagined it.  
She heard his sigh down the phone and shivered as she imagined that same expelled, hot air making contact with her skin.

C : Not hurting, hurting….just the ache that’s always there is back. I noticed when it lifted after that hot stone thing, and then it had gone completely….now it’s back. Shame I haven’t got access to a 24 hour masseuse!

Robin opened and closed her mouth a couple of times.   
Confidence…..he thinks it’s sexy….she mused and then glanced across at the paper bags filled with scented oils and other beauty products.

R : Tell you what…..put something comfy on….I’ll be there in about…..half an hour.

And before she could hear his response, or start to doubt herself she hung up and dropped her phone onto the chair arm beside her and gave a slight squeal.  
“Oh my God….what the fuck are you thinking Robin Venetia Ellacott?!” she hissed out loud to herself.

In the attic flat in number 6 Denmark Street Strike was staring aghast at his phone but smirking a little.  
She was coming over.  
On her Saturday evening.  
His smug smile as he sat back against the red upholstery quickly vanished as he considered that he now had twenty minutes maximum to undress, redress, clean the bathroom, chill some white wine and put on fresh bedding - why he added the final point to his mental list he wasn’t entirely sure; but for some reason that was the one he started with!

Robin had hastily changed her clothes….including her underwear (!? WTAF?) before stuffing several of the spa freebies into her large, ‘everyday’ handbag.   
She’d frozen, re thought and taken a deep breath about 8 times during the time it took for her to make the familiar journey to her place of work.  
On the tube she’d considered all manner of pitfalls to her plan…..could it conceivably be considered to be a plan?   
She’d basically invited herself to Strike’s flat and was planning on offering him a massage!  
It was madness!  
And she was stone cold sober!  
But he thought confidence was sexy….so…..she’d take the bull by the horns and be confident….although every fibre in her body was telling her this could be a catastrophe.

During the tube ride she ran through his possible reactions and decided that she would play it cool and simply offer the massage oil to him by way of allowing either her or his own hands to distribute it across his body.  
And she could judge his reactions and see if he did that long gaze thing…...and maybe…...if he did….maybe she’d find some previously undiscovered Robin inside herself and…….bite on his lips and neck until he gave in and admitted they could make it work!

Or…...or he’d make it clear she was invading his space and take the oil, and that would be an end to it.

One thing that she had accepted though was that she was tired of not knowing.   
The past couple of days with him had been so great.  
Of all the places where they should have been awkward and self conscious with each other - in a bloody spa! - she’d felt the most relaxed ever in his company.  
And if it was one sided and he really didn’t feel the same way…..or just saw her as a mate…..then…..well, she’d just go back to her flat.  
Oh God!  
She really hoped it wasn’t that second scenario!

Strike had completed everything on his mental list and was sitting beside his open, small window trying to cool himself down.  
Robin was coming over.   
He was so glad that she was, although he told himself that all she was doing was delivering his bottle of freebie oil.

Although, if her eyes found his and didn’t look away he might have to confront her with his feelings.   
He’d just spent a couple of the most perfect days in her company; in what should have been ridiculously embarrassing situations; but it hadn’t been.  
He realised that there was of course the strong possibility that Robin just saw him as a friend, which would very much explain their easy going relationship…..but what if she didn’t?  
What if she felt the same way as him?  
What if - just allow yourself to imagine it for 30 seconds, Strike - she thought about him night and day and wanted to kiss his lips, hold him to her heart and soothe him to sleep each night…….cos that’s exactly what he wanted; maybe even needed?

Or…….she could just be being Robin…..kind, thoughtful, spontaneous and completely wonderful. And if that was the case he’d relish her company, say goodnight and everything would go back to friendly companionship on Monday morning.  
Shit!  
He really hoped it was the first option!

Robin’s tread on the iron staircase was second nature and light.   
The straight, wooden stairs up to Strike’s flat were steep and less familiar.  
She was breathing deeply by the time she reached the tiny landing space, which she told herself was due to the exertion rather than the potentially stupid decision she’d taken.  
As she reached out to knock on the door it was swung wide open, revealing Cormoran’s deeply panting chest directly in her line of vision.  
“Hi,” he stated, swallowing and trying to read the slightly open mouthed pout on her face.

Robin fumbled in the bag slung across her shoulder and retrieved the bottle of scented massage oil in it’s crumpled paper carrier bag.  
“Home delivery service,” she flashed him a soft and ridiculously alluring smile.

That was enough,“You’d better come in then so I can say thank you,” and he took a slight step backwards as she moved forwards, her eyes never leaving his as she saw that soft, crinkle-edged sexy smile behind them.

She heard the door click closed behind him and turned to face him; or rather to face the wide broadness of his chest which was rather perfectly encased in a dark, khaki shirt with his usual 2 unfastened button default setting.  
“I’ve decided to be…...confident,” and she flashed her eyes up to find his, which were waiting for her.

He made a resonant rumble deep within his chest which Robin felt as much as heard, especially as he reached and covered his large, swarthy palm across hers clutching at the parcel.  
“It’s definitely sexy,” he murmured as she threaded a couple of her fingers through his and maintained her grip on the package as well as him. 

“Is this completely crazy?” she murmured as she felt him bring his other hand to the small of her back and gently pull her body towards his.  
She hadn’t shifted her gaze from him, so she saw the way his tongue flicked across his upper lip, and the way he shook his head fractionally.

“No; honestly I think it might be the most sensible thing we’ve done in weeks….and bear in mind we’ve just cracked open a fairly major sexual assault and blackmailing ring!” his eyebrows flashed seductively and he moved the hand clutching at hers to join the other in the nape of her back.

Robin glanced briefly down at the bottle in her hand, “I really liked how you smelled when you were covered in this,” she stated, moving her free hand to rest against his bicep and enjoying the soft growl her movement resulted in from him.

“Really? Well, it was very therapeutic….,” and he dipped his face, allowing his lips to trace lightly against her ear and neck as she stretched her face towards him and hummed in her chest.  
She stopped herself from swearing as his hot breath warmed more than the skin it touched. 

“If I cover you in it through, I’ll end up smelling like carrot cake too,” she gripped her lower lip between her teeth as his eyes roved across her face….even the most unskilled detective could figure out the signals she was sending him!

“Well, luckily I agree with you….I love licking the topping off carrot cake,” and without either feeling that it was inappropriate, too soon, too late or just plain wrong, their lips met.

The pressure from Cormoran was soft but thorough; taking his lead from Robin’s reactions; waiting until she opened her mouth to him before he deepened the kiss and drew his hand up to cradle the nape of her neck in his palm, angling her perfectly in order to plunder her mouth with his tongue after receiving a welcoming whimper from her parted lips.

After several wordless, but not exactly silent minutes, they pulled apart, Cormoran’s arms resting where they had ended up; cradling her body close to his in a full on bear hug. Robin’s hands no longer gripping the massage oil which had ended up discarded on the tiny dining table.  
“I feel like that might have been a bit overdue!” Robin panted sweetly, burying her face into the soft, dark hair escaping from the neckline of his shirt.

He inhaled deeply and settled his arms looser around her back, his fingers stroking circles into her back, and finding that one of her small buttocks fitted perfectly into his palm.  
“I’m not sure it was…...I think this is EXACTLY the right time for this to happen between us….I mean, any earlier and you wouldn’t have had that rather delectable tattoo that definitely requires my full investigative powers!” and he squeezed her backside through her jeans, rubbing his thumb across the location of the crimson lotus flower.

Robin sniggered and pressed her palms against his chest, lifting her eyes to meet his amused and darkly dilated ones, “But that tattoo’s on my bottom,” he nodded and smirked, “So that would mean I’d have to take off my jeans.”

His throaty response of “Mmmm hmmm,” turned into the start of a very detailed inspection of more than the location of her tattoo….in fact he could possibly have suggested multiple alternative locations before they finally fell asleep; satiated, sweating and both smelling of vanilla, orange and cinnamon, and sex, in each others arms.

Robin woke to one of the most glorious sensations imaginable.  
She was calming her panting breaths when Strike’s seriously ruffled head finally appeared from beneath the duvet, with a smug expression on his face.  
“I take it Madam is awake?” he growled, licking out at one of her soft nipples en route to her lips.

“Is that the standard Cormoran Strike morning after wake up treat?” she giggled, pressing herself against the firmish weight of his torso as he rested on his elbows between her legs.  
He narrowed his eyes fractionally, trying to decide whether to be offended by her insinuation that what they’d engaged in was ‘standard’ for him; but realised from her blissed out expression that she was joking.  
“No way! That is only reserved for women I wake up next to who smell and taste like the world’s sexiest flapjack!” and somehow Sunday happened around them.


End file.
